Little Rosie
by livingblues
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester's little sister Rose has never known anything more than the job. At seventeen years old, hunting has taken over her whole life and she can hardly remember who she was before. Her brothers are worried about her. They want to give her more from life. But knowing the Winchesters, when does anything ever go to plan?
1. Chapter 1

_***7 years ago***_

 _(Dean is 19, Sam is 15, Rose is 10)_

Rose Winchester was ten years old when her dad told her the truth about his work. Thing was, she'd known for a long time before he actually said it, but until she heard those words there was still a part of her that had hope. Maybe the world wasn't full of evil after all. Maybe her family was perfectly normal.

But it was those words. Once they were out - confirmed - she couldn't deny it anymore. She saw her whole childhood; all her fears and hopes and nightmares; crash and burn around her.

" _Monsters are real_."

That's when the nightmares began. Not too bad at first, but then she started her research. Rented books out of the library by the truckload: ' _An Introduction to Parapsychology',_ ' _The Scientific Truth of Psychic Phenomena_ ', ' _The Evidence for Life After Death_ ', ' _An Unnatural History of Our Worst Fears_ ', ' _Monsters: An Investigator's Guide to Magical Beings_ '. It never stopped. No matter how many terrifying creatures she discovered, there were always a hundred more.

The nightmares became night-terrors, and soon enough she wasn't sleeping at all. It was enough to drive any adult crazy, let alone a ten-year-old girl.

One night, it was three in the morning, Sam was woken by Dean's exclamation of, "What the hell?"

Sam flicked on the light to find his baby sister Rose standing at the foot of Dean's bed tipping a bag of salt over her head. Her eyes were a tangled mess of veins and her body swaying like she couldn't quite hold her balance.

Sharing a concerned glance at Dean, Sam slid out of bed and cautiously approached his sister. "Uh…Rosie? Whatcha doing there?"

Dean leaned forward over the end of his bed and waved a hand in front of Rose's face. She didn't flinch. Didn't even blink. He looked at Sam. "She sleepwalking or something?"

"Dunno," Sam said uncertainly, "are sleepwalking people meant to have their eyes open?"

Still unaware of anyone else in the room, Rose wandered into the motel room's kitchen and pulled a red container out from under the sink. Before her brothers realized what it was, she'd twisted the lid and emptied half of its contents over her clothes.

"Crap, is that….?" Dean started.

Without a word, Rose turned around and lit the stove top. A circle of flames burst awake.

"Gasoline - Dean it's gasoline!" Sam shouted.

He sprinted forward into the kitchen, Dean hot on his heels, but not before Rose stuck the fabric of her pyjama shirt into the flame and lit up all across her back and chest.

"Rose!" Dean roared, just as Sam tackled her to the ground to get the fire out.

"No!" Rose shrieked, struggling against him like a maniac. "No, no, _stop_! _STOP_!"

"It's ok, I got you," Sam said, pounding out the last of the flames. "I got you, Rosie."

"Gotta salt and burn…" she sobbed, still writhing about, "gotta salt and burn the bones!"

Dan turned off the stove and fell on his knees next to his little sister. "What the hell were you thinking, Rose? You could've gotten yourself killed!"

"Salt an'….you've gotta salt and burn…" Rose cried.

"She's delirious," Sam said, breathing hard. His heart hammered against this ribs like a friggen machine. Oh God, what was wrong with his little sister?

"Oh, you _think_?" Dean snapped. Real carefully, he swiped her up in his arms. Rose screamed out, arching her back in pain.

"Gotta get her under cold water," said Dean, "Sam - turn on the shower!"

They burst into the bathroom. Sam flipped the shower on full blast, ice cold, and Dean climbed in. He dropped down to the floor and cradled his sister under the water, willing it to ease the burns.

" _AAAAAAGH!"_ Rose screamed, thrashing about.

"Sam, hold down her legs," Dean ordered, "now!"

 _Oh God oh God oh God,_ went Sam's internal dialogue, but for once he just did as he was told and shut up about it. Rose was putting up a real fight, shrieking and crying out her agony, while she writhed about in Dean's arms.

Dean smoothed back his little sister's hair and held her tighter, his jaw set. "Hang in there, baby."

"I-I don't understand," Sam stuttered, "why would she do that? Why would she _set herself_ on _fire_?!"

"Salt an' burn.." Rose whimpered, "s…salt and burn.."

"Shh, shh," Dean murmured, still smoothing back hair from her face, "you're alright, Rosie. You're just fine." He met Sam's eyes and shook his head. _Not now. First, we deal with these burns._

They left her under the water for a solid fifteen minutes before shutting it off. Rose had finally calmed down at this point and gone limp in Dean's arms. If she weren't still furiously muttering to herself, the boys would be convinced she'd passed out.

They plastered her up in layers of bandaging, wincing at the nasty three-degree burns across her chest and back. Rose cried quietly as she was patched up, but her eyes only ever fluttered half-open, so they knew she wasn't completely conscious. Nonetheless, tears dribbled down her face.

"Just a little longer, Rosie," Sam promised, "you're gonna be good as new." He dabbed her face with a towel.

Dean clipped up the last part of her bandaging. He took a moment to look at his sister. She was still a mess: blue-lipped, quivering, dripping wet, and totally lost to the world. He took her head in his hands and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "We gotcha, baby girl. You're okay."

Once they'd dressed her in some dry clothes, gotten her to take as many painkillers as they could administer, and put her to bed, Dean sighed and shook his head.

"Dad's gonna kill us."

It was two days later when Rose woke up when the discovered the cause of her delirium: turned out depriving oneself of sleep for several days could really screw you up. Who would've guessed it?

All her books were taken away and Dad got her to take some medication for the insomnia and night terrors. The pills never did very much - she still woke up in the night drenched in sweat, and some nights she hardly slept at all - but it was better than nothing.

But Rose made a promise to herself in that tenth year of her life. She didn't want to be the crazy little sister who set herself on fire because she couldn't deal with the life. No. She was better than that - stronger, tougher. Never again would the world see her drop that low. Never again would her _brothers_ see her so small and pathetic.

One day Rose Winchester would be the toughest of them all.


	2. Chapter 2

***Present day***

 _(Dean is 26, Sam is 22, Rose is 17)_

It wasn't the cell phone ringing at six a.m. that woke Dean up. Rather, it was Sam's grumbling from the other bed.

"Dean. Phone."

"Mmmmm…." Dean groaned. He rolled over and pulled a pillow on top of his head.

Sighing, Sam sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He flipped open Dean's phone. "Hello?"

" _Hey, it's me_."

At the sound of Rose's voice - his _sister's_ voice - Sam was suddenly 100% awake. "Rose - Rose is that you?"

" _Yeah, where are you?"_

"What do you mean where am I? Where the hell are _you_?! God Rose, we've been looking everywhere for you!"

Hearing Rose's name, Dean bolted up. "Is that Rose?"

Sam gestured for him to shut up. "Rose - hey, did you hear me? I said where the hell are you?!"

" _I asked first."_

"We're in Oklahoma. What the hell have you been -?"

" _I'm only two states over. Think you could -"_

Dean snatched the phone. "Rose! Are you there?"

" _Yeah. I'm in Louisiana, want to meet me at your bus depot tomorrow morning?"_

Dean was outraged. "What the hell are you doing in Louisiana?"

" _Case. You gonna meet me or not?"_

"C- _case? Case_? Are you friggen kidding me? We've been looking for you for _weeks_!"

" _I missed you too,"_ she deadpanned.

"Well…are you hurt? Did something take you? Know what - just tell me exactly where you are. I'm coming to get you." Pressing the phone to his ear with his shoulder, Dean rummaged about the motel room for some pants. Sam followed suit.

" _Dean -_ " Rose sighed.

"Fine, you can text me the address. Just…stay exactly where you are, alright? _Exactly_ where you are. We're coming as fast as we can."

" _You really don't have to -"_

"Enough," Dean snapped, "just….stay! We're on our way."

He dug up the Impala keys from his old jean pockets, threw a few notes on the coffee table, and took off. Sam gave the room a quick final sweep and slammed the door behind them.

They were going to get their sister.

The youngest Winchester was sitting at a bus stop next to a public phone box off route 44. The boys knew it was her before they even saw her face.

Dean pulled up next to the bus stop, but Sam was out of the car before it'd even stopped moving.

Rose had only half-stood up when Sam wrapped his arms around her, crushing the life out of her in one of his killer bear hugs she knew him so well for. She hugged him back, slightly less enthusiastically.

"Hey Sammy."

"Rose," Sam breathed, "God we were so worried!" He pulled back just enough to examine her face; scanning for injuries. Some fairly sloppy stitches across her forehead and a bandage on her shoulder. Not to mention all the bruising; lacerations around her neck and wrists most prominent. Apart from that, she was absolutely covered in dirt and dried blood. "What _happened_ , are you okay?"

"Just flesh wounds."

"Let me see," Dean demanded, having gotten out of the car. He took Rose's face in his hands and inspected her from all angles, eyes narrowed. He brushed against the stitches and Rose clenched her jaw, willing herself not to flinch.

"Who did this to you, huh?" he said. "Who hurt you?"

"Not a who," Rose grunted, pulling back. She picked up her duffel bag from the bench. " _What_. We can talk in the car."

"No, you can talk to me now. Tell me what did this," he said, "and I swear to God I will beat the sorry sons of bitches into next _week_."

"Little late for that," Rose muttered. She nodded to the Impala. "Get in the car."

They all clambered in. Sam hung out in the back seat with Rose to get a better look at her injuries, making sure there was nothing more serious.

And they were off. Dean had no clue where he was going, for now all that mattered was they were moving. He met Rose's eyes in the rearview mirror. "Now. I want everything - where you've been, what you've been doing, and why the hell you were gone so long. You put us through hell these past couple weeks, you know that? We almost went crazy looking for you."

"Probably should've read my note, then," Rose said, "pretty sure I said not to look for me."

"Yeah, cause when your _seventeen-year-old_ sister mysteriously disappears on some 'hunting trip' she mentions in a cryptic note and asks not to be followed, you take her word for it," Dean snapped.

"I don't understand, Rosie," Sam said, "why would you go on a hunting trip without us? Don't you know how dangerous that is? We were worried sick."

Rose set her jaw. "You needed to know I can look after myself. Hunt evil on my own. Get shit done without you two breathing down my necks."

"You were gone _two weeks_ , Rose! And not one phone call?"

"It was a deep cover mission in Louisiana taking down a major vamp nest. Things like that take time. Privacy. Vamps are smart."

"Woah woah woah," Dean glanced back, "you took down a _vamp's nest_ on your own?"

"And what d'you know?" Rose said. "Still alive."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Are you serious?"

"Don't have to sound so surprised."

Dean wasn't satisfied. "That was incredibly stupid. Look at you - you're a mess. All black and blue and…bloody. Don't even get me started on that crappy stitching job."

"I'd like to see _you_ try to stitch yourself up in a gas station mirror," Rose muttered.

Dean shook his head. "Damnit Rose, if Dad were here…"

"Well he's not here, is he?" Rose snapped. "So don't go dumping the friggen Dad card."

The car was silent for a few moments. Then, in a quiet voice Sam asked, "Have you been taking your meds?"

Rose cleared her throat. "Yeah. Ran out a couple nights ago."

"We can stop at a drugstore to pick up some more."

"It's cool, I got it under control."

Sam sighed. "Rose…"

"We're stopping at a drugstore," Dean said, "that's the end of it. From now on you're under house-arrest, you got that? No going anywhere without my say-so."

"Piss off, Dean. So I went on a lone hunting trip. Guess what? I'm just fine. Sorry for freaking you out or whatever, but there was nothing to worry about. I saved lives. That's what matters."

"We're a family, Rose," Dean said, "we hunt _together_ or we don't hunt at all. Do you have any idea what would happen if we lost you? You can't -" Dean stopped himself and shook his head. "You're my little sister and I'm here to look after you whether you like it or not. We've gotta stick together."

Rose went quiet. Of course she knew what kind of effect she'd have on her brothers taking off out of nowhere. It was selfish; this need to prove herself. Just this once, she'd put herself first….and it felt fucking awful. Yeah, she'd proved herself alright. Proved herself to be an egotistical bitch.

"Jesus…" Rose murmured, rubbing her forehead before remembering the stitches. She flinched. _Ow._

"Careful, Rosie," Sam said. Gently, he peeled away her hand to examine her forehead. He sucked in a breath. "God, that truly is…an _awful_ stitching job. Wow." He grinned. "Guess you had a crappy teacher."

"Hey," Dean called back, "I am an _awesome_ teacher."

"Uh-huh. Pull out at the nearest exit, will you? Gotta get Rosie here cleaned up."

Rose gave him a hard look. "Just Rose will do," she said.

Daylight had all but completely faded by the time the Impala pulled in at _Econo Lodge;_ a motel in Batesville, Mississippi. Travelling to get Rose in Louisiana from Oklahoma had almost been a full day's trip. Rose lay back in the worn leather seat and took a deep breath as Dean parked the car. She peered out the window at the cheap red bricks and grimy windows of _Econo Lodge_. Just another crappy motel.

Yup, she was home.

Duffel bags slung over their shoulders, the Winchesters sauntered up to the reception desk. Deal pricked the bell for assistance and a middle-aged woman appeared from a dimly-lit room on the left.

She took a drag from her cigarette and blew smoke across their faces when she spoke. "What can I do for you?"

Dean swiped some smoke away. "One room, two queens please," he coughed.

Sam cut in, "Uh, two rooms actually."

Dean gave him a look and opened his mouth to argue, but the woman was already getting some keys from the rack behind her. They handed over their scammed credit card details and waited for the woman to process everything.

Dean turned to Sam. "What'd you get two rooms for?" he hissed.

Sam looked over his shoulder at Rose, who - albeit obviously exhausted - was still inspecting the area with all the discretion she could muster. Always on the lookout for danger. He dug a couple notes out of his pocket and said, "Hey Rosie, mind popping out to get me a soda from the vending machine outside?"

Rose eyed him as if to say _I know exactly what you're doing_ , but took the cash and wandered outside anyway. Sam turned back to Dean.

"Ever wonder why a seventeen-year-old runs away for two weeks?" he asked.

Dean paused. "Cause they're morons?"

"Because they want _space._ Independence. I mean, she's under our watch 24/7 Dean!" He sighed. "I think, just to keep her… _placated_ , we should be more willing to give her that space."

"Yeah, space to take off again!"

"No, just space to breathe. Besides, she's a teenager…and a girl. It's probably healthy for her to be on her own, even just for a night or two."

Dean scowled. "What do you mean?"

"Please do not make me try to explain teenage girl things to you."

"But that doesn't make sense. If she wanted space, she coulda just told us."

Sam sighed. "You know Rose, man. She'd sooner hack off her hands and feet than complain about girl problems. Or any problems, really."

"All this talk of Rose having girly problems is making me itch," Dean muttered.

"Fine. Problems, needs, whatever."

" _Needs_?"

"Ahem," the woman behind the desk cleared her throat. It looked like she'd been standing there waiting for them to finish for a while. At their look, she arched an eyebrow.

Sam took the room keys and they walked outside to find Rose leaning against the vending machine. She tossed Sam a can of coke and followed them to their rooms. At being given her own set of keys to the door across the hall from Sam and Dean, she raised her eyebrows.

"So that's what you girls were fussing about back there?"

"Take 'em or leave 'em sis," Dean said.

Smirking, Rose snatched the keys.

She didn't enjoy her solitude for very long, however, before her brothers had stormed in the room with a first aid kid to make sure she was properly patched up.

"Hey, enough," she smacked Dean's hand away as he tilted her head back to get a better look at the stitches. "Shower first. Pester later." She stood up from the edge of the bed, grabbed some clean clothes out of her duffel bag, and moved for the bathroom. "Go pick up some dinner."

The bathroom door was closed shut behind her before they could argue. The boys sighed.

Dean tossed Sam the Impala keys. "You go. I'm gonna stay with her."

Sam arched an eyebrow. "You know smothering is just gonna piss her off, right?"

"Yeah, well better her pissed off than gone again," Dean snapped. "Just go. And I swear to God if you scratch my car…"

Sam held up his hands, a gesture of surrender. "Alright, grumpy. Just take it easy okay? She's safe, that's what matters."

Even before he'd gone, Dean knew his brother was right. Rose was back, alive and well (for the most part). As much as he wanted to be angry with her, it was all an act for the flood of relief he'd been washed over with since he heard her voice that morning. In a way, Dean had been his sister's parent more than John ever was. _Watch out for Rosie. Take care of little Rose._ He couldn't remember it ever being any other way. Rose was _his_ responsibility. His baby girl to look after no matter how old she got. At seventeen years old, she was one of the best hunters he'd ever seen in action. Maybe even better than him.

But it didn't matter: Rose could be the best goddamn hunter out there and Dean would never, ever stop looking out for her. In his mind she was still the little girl who crawled into bed with him when she got night terrors and ate cheerios every morning with a big glass of orange juice. God knew Rose had spent her entire teenage life turning herself into a badass hunter who needed nothing from nobody. Dean knew she hated him for still seeing her as that scared little girl with big green eyes and curly blonde hair, but deep down that was exactly what she was: scared. Scared of never being enough. Strong enough, fast enough, smart enough.

Ten minutes later Rose emerged from the bathroom in a big baggy shirt and her underwear, ruffling her hair with a towel. With all the dirt and blood washed off, Dean had a chance to see how pale she looked. How thin. And then he noticed the intricate lines of black ink drawn down the length of her right arm.

"God- _damnit_ Rose Winchester, tell me that is not a friggen _tattoo_ on your arm."

"Calm down," Rose sighed, "I saved the guy from a hungry vamp. He did it free of charge."

"You think this is about the _cash_?!" Dean paused, squinting at the art printed into her skin. "What is it anyway?"

"They're birds."

"B- _birds_? You poisoned your skin for _birds_?!"

Rose made her way to the edge of the bed and sat down, a little unsteady. She pursed her lips, blinking hard like there was dirt in her eyes.

Outrage at the tattoo forgotten, Dean stepped forward with his hands outstretched in case she slipped to the floor. "You okay, Rosie?"

"Fine. Mild concussion, I think. And it's Rose."

"Yeah, either that or friggen _ink_ poisoning…" Dean grumbled. He felt her head for a fever. She was alright. Cold, actually. He grabbed Sam's coke off the table and held it out to her. "Drink this, you need the sugar."

"Dean, it's fine. One bump to the head isn't gonna kill me."

"Neither will one soda. Just drink it." She gave him a look. He rolled his eyes. "Please?"

Rose sighed. "Only cause you asked so nicely…" she took the can and downed three long sips.

Dean smiled. "Atta girl." While she drank, he shrugged off his leather jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Stay where you are, I'm gonna get the stuff out to stitch up your head."

Rose wiped her lips. "My head is already stitched up."

"Trust me sweetheart, those don't count as stitches."

She rolled her eyes, too tired to argue.

Sam returned about halfway through the restitching process. He dropped the room keys by the door and the Impala keys on the coffee table next to two bags of fast food.

"How's it coming?" he asked. Then he noticed Rose's ink. "Crap, is that a -?"

"Yeah, I got a tattoo," Rose said, "please save your outrage for after I've got a stiff drink in me."

"Drink?" Dean barked a laugh. "I don't think so young lady."

Sam paused, still examining the tattoo. Finally he said, "I like it, Rose. It suits you."

Rose raised her eyebrows. "Yeah?"

He smiled. "Yeah, definitely."

Dean spun around. "Dude, don't _encourage_ the teenage rebellion!"

Having accidentally yanked on the stitching he'd sewn into her head, Rose tensed up. "Eyes front, Winchester."

"My bad," Dean apologized, getting back to task. To Sam he asked, "Find any painkillers in the first aid kit?"

"Yeah, but she'll have to eat something first."

"I don't need any fucking painkillers," Rose ground out, pain trapped between her teeth.

Dean laughed. "Well alright then potty mouth."

"We just wanna look after you, Rosie," Sam said. At her look, he corrected himself. "Rose."

The three of them ate greasy burgers around the coffee table, Rose more picking at hers than real eating. The boys decided to let it go for the night, even though she wasn't looking her healthiest. Instead they got her to drink as much as they could, keep her fluids nice and high. For now, that'd do. They'd just gotten their sister back - weren't about to scare her away by force-feeding crappy road food on the first night.

Once they were finished, the boys tried to get all they could out of Rose about her lone hunt. This mysterious vamp nest she'd taken down in Louisiana. Not surprisingly, Rose wasn't in much of a chatty mood. Lack of sleep plus her normal personality wasn't a very sociable combination. From what they were able to gather, she'd allowed herself to get kidnapped and waited for the opportune moment to strike from the heart of the nest.

"Are you crazy?" Dean said. "You could've gotten yourself _killed_!"

"I didn't though, did I?"

"No, I've gotta go with Dean on this one," Sam shook his head, "that was incredibly dangerous."

"Which is exactly why _you_ guys weren't invited. They wouldn't have been interested in you. What kind of vamp abducts an obvious hunter?" Rose paused, debating whether or not to tell them the next part. Against her better judgement, she continued, "They wanted girls. Seemed to have a preference for young blondes in particular, such as myself. I blended in. Turned myself into a civilian. Things were pretty simple from there."

"Woah woah woah," Dean leaned in, "what d'you mean they wanted _girls_? What kind of vamp nest was this exactly?"

Rose sighed. "I could tell you, but you're not gonna like it."

"Rose…"

She took another moment, straightened her back and said, "Best I can describe it is like…a vampire strip club cross an all-you-can-eat blood buffet."

Dean stood up, stormed across the room, and swiped one of the counter-tops. Lamps and note pads and keys crashed against the floor. He grabbed a chair and threw it against the wall. The crappy wooden pieces broke apart and shattered.

"Dean," Sam snapped, " _Dean_ , that's enough!"

Not seeming to hear him, Dean marched back over to Rose and took her by the shoulders. His grip was steel and eyes livid.

"Don't you ever, _EVER_ do something like that again! Do you understand me?"

"Do what?" Rose demanded. "Hunt evil? Save innocent lives?"

"Turn yourself in a _vampire's whore_ , that's what!"

"Dean!" Sam shouted.

"I did what I had to do," Rose spat, "and I'd do it all again. In a heartbeat. You think I _liked_ being hung up half-naked like a piece of meat for those evil sons of bitches? Guess what, Dean, _that's the job_. You said it yourself: it sucks, but someone's gotta do it."

"Did they touch you?" Dean asked. "Tell me, cause I swear to God if they so much as laid a _finger_ on you I'll -"

"You'll what?" Rose laughed without humour. "I already told you, I've taken care of it. Because of me, those vamps aren't gonna hurt anyone ever again." She shoved Dean away from her, rubbing her arms where he'd held her so tight. "I'll heal. They won't."

Dean shook his head. Every word she spoke to justify herself just wasn't enough for him. What those sick assholes did to his sister - stripping her down, stringing her up, feeding on her and God knew what else - was not worth anything. Not to him. They hurt his baby sister and he wasn't there to save her. Nothing in the world could make that okay.

Without another word, he stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him. If he stayed in there any longer he'd be sure to break something else.

Sam pursed his lips while Rose just sat there on the end of the bed; sunken with defeat. Slowly, he moved up to her. "You okay?"

Rose's lips parted. He knew what the words were going to be. _No, I'm not okay. I'm so far from okay._ But she nodded yes anyway.

"Hey," he said softly, pulling her up at the elbows, "c'mere."

He embraced her until she'd stopped shaking, tucking his chin over the top of her head. God, he never noticed until he was hugging her just how _small_ Rose was. Well, small compared to him and Dean. The way she walked, carried herself, made her look so much taller. But in his arms, she was just scraps of bone. He worried that when he finally let go she might break apart.

"What d'you say we disinfect those bite marks, huh?" Sam said.

Rose nodded, still saying nothing.

It turned out there were way more bites than he'd guessed. Apart from the two on her shoulders, fang piercings trailed all the way down her back, chest and stomach. Each new one he saw was like a mouthful of fire Sam had to swallow down and he suddenly appreciated Dean's raging outburst. It took a good half hour to get them all cleaned up and properly bandaged. The rubbing alcohol must've stung like a bitch, but Rose clamped her jaw shut and was silent the entire time.

Every now and again Sam took her hand and gave a little squeeze. "Sorry, Rosie. You're doing real good. Almost done." She didn't even correct him on the name.

At around half past ten, Sam made sure Rose was tucked in bed just like he did when they were kids and then went across the hall to his room. An hour later, Dean returned.

Sitting upright in bed watching late night news, Sam sighed. "Was beginning to think you weren't coming back."

Dean put down his keys. He rubbed his forehead. "How is she?"

"Bruised, malnourished, concussed and covered in bite marks," Sam said, "but she's gonna be okay."

Dean shook his head. "How the hell is that okay?"

"Look Dean, I'm on the same page as you. Just thinking about some nasty bloodsucker getting his hands on Rosie makes me wanna tear something up, but you gotta get your crap together. What Rose did - taking off and getting herself into something like that - was stupid, and dangerous. But, looking at her as just a hunter for a second…she did good. _Really_ good. She needs recognition for that."

"So _you_ recognize her," Dean snapped, "but I…I can't. God, I just can't. If she wants a gold star for letting herself be a vamp's plaything, I'm not her guy."

"Dean. Don't you get it? Rosie put herself through hell to _show you_ what she's capable of. To make you proud of her. She needs your recognition for that, or -"

"Or what?"

"Or she'll take off and do it again! Find something bigger and better and _more_ dangerous until you're impressed. That's all this is."

"But that's crazy!"

"Actually…" Sam pulled out his laptop and opened up a webpage, "according to _Psychology Today_ , it's totally normal. Right now to Rose, she needs your approval to feel ' _loved, secure and validated_ '. Most teens get that stuff from their peers, but uh…well, that's not a huge option for Rose."

"Jesus Christ Sammy, don't tell me this is what you've been doing all night."

"Rose needs you," Sam said, ignoring him. "She'll never say it in a million years, but she does."

"I dunno…" Dean sighed. He dug into the mini fridge and pulled out a couple tiny bottles of liquor. Didn't bother reading the label, just poured one in a glass and tipped it back. "Maybe you're right, but aside from all that…I can't help but wonder how much we've screwed with her head already. Living on the road, never sticking around long enough to make friends, all the hunting…it's no way for her to grow up." He downed another drink. "I mean, I know that's how _we_ grew up, but Rose is different. She's given up trying to be a normal kid altogether."

"I know what you're saying," Sam agreed, "she's not herself anymore. Hasn't been for a while. Like she's…fading."

Dean shook his head. "What are we doing to her, Sammy?"

Sam scoffed. "The only thing we know _how_ to do. Living the Winchester life: hunting, lying, cheating, running."

"Well screw that. Rosie deserves more. From now on I don't want her hunting. I want her to study, make some friends, and stay away from all this crap. I can't…" he closed his eyes, "I can't watch her run off and get hurt like that again. I just can't."

Suddenly Sam froze. "Crap."

"What?"

"Rose's sleep meds. We forgot to pick them up." He sighed. "No way she's gotten to sleep without them."

"I'll go check on her."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Get some shut-eye, you look like crap."

Sam's dry laughter followed Dean out the door. He crossed the stubby hallway and knocked softly on Rose's door. Hopefully if she was asleep, she wouldn't hear it.

Within seconds the door swung open. Rose stood in the dark room on her own, looking so small and washed out in that big baggy shirt. She rubbed her eye. "Hey."

"Hey kiddo. Can't sleep?"

She shook her head and opened the door wider to let him in.

Rose sauntered across to a big chair next to the coffee table and topped up a glass of whiskey. She held up the bottle and raised her eyebrows. "Want some?"

Dean folded his arms. "I even wanna know where you got that?"

"Doubt it."

"You'd better pour me a glass then."

And that's how the oldest and youngest of the Winchester siblings ended up sitting around a crappy motel room coffee table drinking whiskey. They were both comfortably silent for a few minutes, just enjoying the sharp burn of alcohol.

Finally, thinking about what Sam had told him, Dean said, "Hey Rosie, about earlier. I'm sor -"

"It's okay."

Dean paused. "You sure about that? I kinda lost it."

"Oh no, you _totally_ lost it." She met his eyes across the table and took a sip from her glass. "But it's okay."

Another silence, shorter this time. Dean cleared his throat. "So, like, out of curiosity, would you say you feel…loved, secure and…validated?"

Rose arched an eyebrow. "Huh?"

"Ah, never mind. Just Sam being an idiot."

She took a beat, then said, "Look, I'm…sorry. About taking off on you. It was stupid. I just…I found a case, came up with a plan I knew you'd never go for, and took it into my own hands. I don't…I don't know what's wrong with me. It's like hunting is all I can think about. All that matters." She stopped, searching for more words, and just shook her head. "Whatever. It was stupid."

Dean sighed. "You scared the hell out of me, Rose. I could've lost you."

Rose looked down, glaring hard into the bottom of her glass.

"Listen, sweetie, I love that you're so eager to help people. That's awesome. But no one - _no_ one - comes before you. I will always pick your life over a stranger's. I'm sorry, but that's just how it is."

"But…that's not the job. We sacrifice ourselves every day for strangers."

"Rose, screw the job. Me and Sam are worried that you're too focused on the job. Maybe it's time to take a break."

"What? No." Rose shook her head. "No. Hunting is what I am."

"No, baby, it's not. You are so much more than the job."

"Dean. Please. You can't make me stop hunting. It's all I know!"

Dean sighed. That's what he was afraid of.

"Okay. Okay, I know what you're saying. If you tried to tell a seventeen-year-old Dean to just quit, he would've had the exact same reaction. How about this? We limit your hunts to once every two or three weeks. And no going off on your own."

"I don't understand," Rose said, "what're you afraid of? You know I can look after myself…..right?"

"That's not the point."

"Then what _is_ the point?"

"The point is to give you more from life. Cause right now, honestly…we're worried about you! You've stopped sleeping through the night again, you're hardly eating, you're distant, and all you ever care about is the next hunt. It's not healthy, Rosie."

"I'm _fine_."

"Yeah?" Dean nodded at the half-empty bottle of whiskey. "How much was in there when you got it?"

"You're gonna chastise _me_ about drinking?"

"Point taken. All I'm saying is, we wanna look out for you. Whether you like it or not, you're still my baby sister."

"Hey, I'm not your ' _baby_ ' anything."

Dean threw up his arms. "You know what I mean. All I'm asking is that we lay a few ground rules for how often you get to hunt, at least for the year."

Rose looked confused. "But if I'm not hunting…what else is there to do?"

"Wow," Dean blinked, "you _really_ don't get out much do you?"

" _Dean_."

"Just…stuff! Life stuff! Friends, school -"

"I've only got one more year."

"Well then college maybe! Sam would love that. You could buy matching geek glasses."

At that even Rose had to crack a smile.

"See!" Dean grinned. "That sounds good, right? A normal life."

"Plus hunting," Rose added.

"Plus _some_ hunting."

Rose took a final sip of whiskey from her glass and leant back in the chair. Slowly, she nodded. "Okay."

"Okay meaning yes?"

"Okay meaning I'll think about it."

Dean smiled. "I'll take it." He tipped back the last of his drink and stood up. "C'mon, let's get you to bed."

Rose slid under her blankets and Dean pulled them up to her neck, tucking her in nice and tight. She looked up at him with those green eyes - just like his eyes and his mother's eyes - and suddenly she was five years old again. "What if I can't sleep?"

Dean smoothed a few wisps of hair off her face. He slid his boots off and climbed on the bed next to her. "Then I'll stay here until you do."

Within minutes Rose was out cold. Every now and again she'd twitch and fall into fits of cold sweat, but Dean rubbed her shoulder and coaxed her back into a restful sleep like he'd done so many nights before.

Rose breathed deeply, head nestled into Dean's arm. He kissed the top of her head. "Sleep well, baby girl," he whispered.

And then they were both asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

***BACK-TO-SCHOOL SHOPPING***

Rose arched an eyebrow. "You've gotta be kidding me."

The trio stood in front of _Metrocenter Mall,_ the closest shopping center to their motel, wearing a range of expressions. One of disbelief from Rose and two hopeful grins shared between Sam and Dean.

"Aw, c'mon Rose," Sam said. He wrapped a long arm around his sister's shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "I thought you loved shopping!"

"We shopping for army knives?"

"Um…no."

"Then you thought wrong."

Dean made sure the Impala was securely locked and nudged his siblings toward the main entrance. "New clothes, maybe a little make-up, some fluffy pink slippers - it'll be fun!"

"Dean, since when have you ever wanted to take me _clothes_ shopping?"

"Since now! It's time you had more of the real teenage girl experience."

"Exactly," Sam agreed, "besides, we can hardly send you to school in that."

Rose glanced down at her torn black jeans, army boots and leather combat gloves. She frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, it wasn't an insult! Just saying, you look a little more ready to jump in a fighting ring than sit in a classroom."

"Don't want to scare off all the other teenyboppers, do you?" Dean grinned.

Rose shook her head, trying to hide her own smirk. "Shut up. We agreed I'm going back to school to study, not make friends."

"You're _going_ there to fit in," he told her, "live like any other seventeen-year-old girl in America." 

Sam gave Rose's shoulders another short squeeze. "Now tell me, what's so bad about that?"

Rose held an exasperated sigh between her teeth. She knew how hard her brothers were trying to fill in all the missing pieces of her life; friends, homework, trips to the mall. She didn't have the heart to tell them it was too late. Rose was a hunter, born and bred, and nothing they did for her now could change that. She guessed for the time being she could let them have their fun with it - dress her up and send her off to finish high school like any other American teenager. It was a small price to pay to placate them. She gave their little rescue mission a month, tops, before they all realized where Rose was really meant to be.

Just as they entered the mall through the automatic door, Rose remembered the silver knife poking out of her back pocket and slyly pushed it down deeper to conceal the hilt.

She belonged in the field, hunting evil. Not here.

"So," Dean rubbed his hands together, "where to first?"

Rose laughed once. "You ask as if I know any real clothing stores."

"Look, up there," Sam pointed at the top of an escalator, "heard of _Forever 21?_ Girls like to shop there, right?"

"Um…"

"We're going," Dean decided for her, pushing them toward the escalator.

They'd hardly spent five minutes among the lacy pinks, tight denims and cropped leathers before Rose put her foot down. Nothing in there she'd be caught wearing in a hundred years. As they were walking out, Dean held up a white flowery sundress. His eyes lit up.

"Rose, Rose - this one!"

She arched an eyebrow. "Dean. Come on."

"Hey, it's cute!"

"Yeah, cute for a five-year-old. On her way to church."

Sam laughed. "There's an _American Apparel_ next door. Maybe we'll have more luck there."

While Sam and Dean debated how short was _too_ short among the skirt section (Sam was thinking knee-length whilst Dean was insistent on the hem brushing her ankles), Rose browsed the selection of T-shirts. She picked up a couple plain blank tank-tops from the shelf in her size and went to try them on. By the time she'd chosen one and purchased it, her brothers were still bickering away. She shook her head, trying not to smile. _Idiots_.

They wandered into _Just Jeans_ next, where the boys insisted Rose purchase a new pair of jeans.

She tossed them a challenging glare. "What's wrong with my jeans?"

Dean folded his arms, struggling to put together a sentence that wouldn't totally piss her off. "Um…I…"

"They're looking a little worse for wear," Sam tried to help.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, "all those rips and scratches - it's gotten to be a little too… _revealing_."

"I think I can decide for myself what is ' _too revealing_ ', thanks."

Just to make her point, Rose snatched a denim miniskirt and a cropped V-neck off the shelves. She stormed into the changing room, only to emerge with more of her flesh exposed than her brothers had seen in a long time: long, toned legs and a chest that bulged and curved in all the right places. She put her hands on her hip, smiling.

"Mm, _this_ is nice…" Rose drawled, running her hands up and down her lovely feminine figure. "All I need is a hot pair of stilettos to finish it off."

Sam and Dean wore matching expressions of both horror and shock. Rose had never been one to express her physical sexuality, but up until this point they'd assumed that was just because she didn't have a whole lot of sexuality to express. As it turned out…their little sister had _more_ than enough. She'd simply chosen to keep it locked away.

This was bad. This was very, very bad.

"Jesus, Rose!" Dean hissed. "When did you get _boobs_?"

Sam nudged him, but Rose just rolled her eyes.

"Sometime between now and none of your damn business."

"What Dean _means_ to say," Sam cleared his throat, "is that you look…great. We're just slightly concerned about what kind of attention you're bound to draw."

"I thought you _wanted_ me to express my teenage girlhood?" Rose quipped. She gave herself another once-over in the mirror. "This looks like the perfect outfit for making friends at a new school, don't you think?"

Dean's jaw clenched tight as he remembered his own high school days. One look at a girl like Rose and he'd be on that so fast she wouldn't even remember taking off her tight little skirt.

He took two strides toward his sister, put his arms on her shoulders, and said in a very serious voice, "Rose. Teenage boys are nasty creatures who care about two things, and two things only: sex, and which girls they want it from. It's my job not to let you be one of those girls."

"Relax Dean," Rose sighed, pushing him off, "I do that job just fine on my own."

Sam and Dean shared a look. Sam took a cautious step forward. "Have you had guys hassling you for stuff like that?"

She shrugged.

"Woah woah woah," Dean said, "some _scumbag_ tried to get it on with you and you didn't tell me?"

"Not exactly," Rose told them. Her brothers relaxed a bit, until she added, "More like scumbag _s._ Plural."

" _WHAT_?" both brothers demanded in unison, looking just about ready to knock out the first man they could get their hands on.

Dean forced his sister to look him in the eye and gripped her shoulders again. His expression was deadly stern. "You listen here Rosie. If any guy _ever_ tries to get fresh with you, you yell for me. No asshat lays a hand on you, not on my watch."

Once again, Rose shoved him off. "For Christ's sake. You guys need to chill out."

"I'm serious!"

"So am I!"

She slammed the changing room door in Dean's face, pulled on a pair of nice respectable blue jeans, and opened it up again. "Happy?"

Sam and Dean breathed a sigh of relief.

They bought a couple more cheap plain shirts, a pair of converses, when Rose caught a glimpse of something she _actually_ needed. She stopped. Her brothers sauntered on a few steps ahead before turning around to give her a questioning look.

"Uhhh - you guys go back to the car. Give me two minutes."

Sam frowned. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just gotta pick something up real fast."

"Something?"

Rose laughed. " _Two_ minutes. C'mon."

Reluctantly, they wandered off, shooting suspicious and concerned glances behind them. Once they had rounded the corner, Rose took off to the store she'd eyed earlier.

 _Victoria's Secret_.

The deep pink and black doorway was more than a slight put-off, but if there was one thing Rose was in a real desperate need for…it was bras and underwear. She'd been wearing the _Target_ ones she bought herself over and over again for two years. This venture to acquire some with a larger cup size was long overdue.

Guessing her size, she chose a couple bras off the racks. One plain black, one nude, and…she eyed a rather interesting lacy red specimen and snatched it last minute. What the hell.

Rose had taken a lucky estimate with her size - the first two plain ones fit just fine. Tentatively, she slipped the lacy red piece over her shoulders and clipped it up at the back. She frowned at her reflection in the changing room mirror, perplexed by this odd image. Her chest had never looked so…pretty.

" _Mm,_ that one's nice."

Rose spun around to see one creepy little eye staring at her through the thin parting of the changing room curtains. She acted first and thought second; jabbing the heel of her palm against the curtain - presumably right under this pervert's nose.

 _Bingo_. "Ow!" a shuffling noise. "Son of a _bitch_!"

Still wearing nothing more than the lacy red bra and her jeans, Rose stormed out of the changing room and seized her friendly neighborhood pervert - a lanky teenage boy - by the cuff of his shirt. Blood ran down his nose, face tightened in pain.

"What d'you think now?" Rose asked. "Still look nice?"

He spat blood in her face. "You crazy _bitch_!"

The changing room across from hers opened to reveal a girl around Rose's age. At first sight of her, Rose was mesmerized. Her dark chocolate skin was so smooth, legs lean and exposed beneath her tight denim shorts, and eyes a bright burnt-caramel. For a moment Rose was convinced a heavenly glow was radiating off the girl before she realized it was just the cheap UV light from above spilling over her figure. Glinting off her sleek brown hair.

The girl's face dropped. "Zach! I _told_ you to wait for me outside!"

Now Rose was distracted, the guy - Zach, apparently - escaped by jabbing a knee into her stomach and promptly hobbling the hell out of there.

" _Zach!"_ the gorgeous female specimen screamed. "What the hell?!" She was torn between chasing after him and helping Rose, who was now bent over and out of breath. All the bite marks plastered up across her stomach throbbed and stung, not to mention the colourful bruising left behind by rough vamp-handling. She bit her tongue to suppress a groan.

Choosing the latter, the girl approached Rose. "Oh my God, I am so so sorry. I told him not to follow me in - I know how creepy he can be around girls, but I had no _idea_ -!"

"Rose?" a familiar voice called.

 _Just my luck,_ Rose thought to herself with an inward groan.

Sam and Dean rounded the corner into the changing rooms, only to find their little sister still bent over and out of breath, blood splattered across her face.

"Woah, Rose!" Sam cried. The boys raced toward her, examining every inch of her (currently very exposed) flesh for injury.

"What happened?" Dean demanded. "Huh? Who did this?" He took hold of Rose's face, wiping away blood with his thumbs. "Tell me."

"'M fine," Rose muttered, trying to shrug them off, "s'not my blood."

"I'm so sorry," the pretty girl gushed, "it was my brother - I didn't see what happened, but he kneed her in the stomach and ran off."

" _What_?"

"He was watching me through the curtains," Rose ground out, "and didn't take too nicely to getting punched in the face."

Sam paused. "The skinny guy?"

"You saw him?"

"Yeah, he bumped into us running out of the store. Face all bloody."

Before Sam had even finished that reply, Dean took off sprinting out of the store after the pervert who'd just hurt his sister.

"Dean, hey!" Rose called. Too late. Even if Dean had heard her, nothing was getting between him and that poor little pervert now. She sighed, praying Dean didn't do something stupid like accidentally kill the dumb bastard.

"Here," the girl - Zach's sister - said, reaching in Rose's changing room to get her shirt. "Let me help you get dressed. I feel totally awful."

"Really, it's okay," Rose said. She found it hard to even look at her for some reason, like if she did she'd lose the ability to speak.

"Thanks," Sam said, taking the clothes from her, "but we got it. You might want to go check on your brother. Dean can get pretty rough."

"Um…okay." Slowly, she started to drift out of the room. "Sorry again. Really."

Once she was gone, Sam turned back to Rose. He bent his head down to look her in the eye. "You okay, Rosie?"

She nodded. "Fine. Wanna explain how you found me?'

"Uh…if you promise not to punch _me_ in the face next."

"Sam."

He sighed. "Dean didn't want to leave you on your own - guess he was paranoid you'd run off again. We followed you."

"Dude!" Rose said. "What the hell?"

"Okay, feel free to be pissed with me all you want, but do you think you could put on a shirt first?"

Suddenly embarrassed, Rose blushed. Still scowling and hot with anger, she muttered, "Sorry," and closed herself back in the changing room. Unclipping the bra, putting her own back on and sliding a shirt over her head was ten times more sore than she remembered - what with the getting kneed in the gut and all. She hissed under her breath.

"What's wrong?"

"Bruised rib," she grumbled, sliding out of the changing room. "That kid has one pointy fucking knee."

Sam was breathing heavily, clearly trying not to snap. "I'm gonna kill that little creep," he growled.

"Pretty sure Dean's beaten you to it."

"Here," Sam said, sliding am arm under her shoulder to support some of her weight. "Let's get you back to the motel and check it's nothing more serious."

She moved away from him, carrying the three bras she'd tried on before Peeping Tom paid her a visit. "Bruised rib ain't gonna kill me, Sammy." She gave the red bra a newfound look of disgust and hung it back on the rack, carrying the other two to the counter.

The pair wandered out of the store and headed for the Impala, Rose taking shallow breaths so as not to worsen her throbbing rib.

"Hey Sam?"

"Yeah Rosie?"

"Please never take me shopping for clothes again."

Sam laughed. "Deal."


	4. Chapter 4

***ONE DAY AT A TIME***

The night before Rose returned to high school after six months of solid hunting, her brothers had done something horrendous. Something truly, unbelievably appalling.

Five a.m. the next morning, Rose turned over in her bed to see an outfit laid out on the motel room dresser: her new blue jeans, a red asymmetrical shirt, and a pair of black converses. She shook her head in disgust.

They had _planned out_ and _hung up_ her clothes. After a solid forty-five minutes of bickering and dressing her up and down in various potential assortments, this was their final decision. Oh good _God_ , it was like she was five years old again on her first day of kindergarten! Honestly, if Rose woke up in freaking pig tails she wouldn't be surprised.

She'd been awake all damn night, glaring at that stupid outfit. Why did she _agree_ to this? She wasn't some pathetic high school student! She was a hunter. And a damn good one at that. She…she…Rose sighed. She should really not be this nervous. Give her vamps and poltergeists any day, but fellow teenagers?

Rose buried her face in a pillow, curling into a ball. She didn't want to do this.

 _"_ _Freak. Skank. Loser. Bitch."_

Nasty notes in the locker, practical jokes at her expense, bitchy girls, pervy boys – Rose had never been a popular member of the high school crowd, no matter where she went. Girls envied her. Boys wanted her. Neither ever got what they wanted; her pretty green eyes, her perky swollen chest. In fairnesss, Rose never made it particularly easy for herself. She deliberately kept to herself, but the tighter you close up the harder those pubescent beasts will work to pry you open. Rose had learned that the hard way, and at this point she didn't know how to behave any differently.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she watched the digital clock tick away her final moments on the nightstand.

 _7:57. 7:58. 7:59…_

" _Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof!_

 _"_ _(Because I'm happy…)_

 _"_ _Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth!"_

Rose groaned, pulling a pillow over her head. "Ugggh….worst…alarm… _ever_."

Without warning, the door crashed open. Sam and Dean burst in, grinning from ear to ear.

"Rise 'n shine baby sis!" Dean said. He marched through the room and threw open the curtains, casting a burning golden light across the room. "First day of school."

"Jesus," Rose muttered, shielding her eyes. "Should've known you'd get yourself a key."

Sam laughed, coming to sit on her bedside. He swiped a mass of blonde curls off her face and smiled. "Yeah. Sorry about that. Totally Dean's idea."

"Dude," Dean said, "when are you gonna stop doing that thing where you pretend you have nothing to do with my brothery schemes?" He jerked an accusatory thumb at his brother. "This guy is just as bad as me, he only lies about it so you like him more."

"Not true!" Sam declared.

"Tell me, does it ever get tiring kissing so much ass?"

"I'm gonna take a shower," said Rose, rolling out of bed and heading for the bathroom.

"Okay, but come here before you put your clothes on," Dean said, "so I can redress all your bandages."

Rose locked herself in the bathroom and leant against the door, closing her eyes. _Sam and Dean really, really want this for you. You owe it to them to at least try._

She took five minutes to shower and almost ten figuring out what the hell she was gonna do with her hair. Up? Down? Neat? Messy? In the end she decided to just blow dry it straight. Something about her natural blonde curls always seemed to draw attention.

Her brothers were getting impatient. "Rose!" Dean pounded on the door. "Let's get this show on the road, princess!"

Rose swung open the door, dressed and ready to go.

"Never call me that again."

Dean looked amused. "Well I think twenty minutes locked in the bathroom warrants a little teasing, don't you?" He grinned. "Princess."

She moved past him into the room, but not without a sharp jab to the shoulder first.

"Ow!" yelped Dean.

"Know any real princesses that can hit that hard?"

Sam laughed. He took Rose by the wrist and pulled her into a playful lockhold, tussling her hair. "That's enough from you guys. Don't wanna give little Rosie here any wrong ideas on her first day."

Rose had been playing along in his half-tackle with a smile; struggling to wrestle her way out; but stopped at those words. _First day_. Her heart sunk.

Dean frowned. "Wrong ideas?"

"Uh, yeah – like _punching_ someone is the best way to resolve a conflict," Sam laughed again, squeezing Rose tighter with playful scorn.

All of a sudden Rose didn't feel in the mood to play anymore. She wriggled out of Sam's arms and straightened herself up in front of a mirror. All she saw in herself was the shit: stitched-up gash across her forehead, eyes too big and weighed down with sleepless nights, tall shoulders – hunter's shoulders – and lips that hardly ever smiled. She could see it now; they were gonna eat her alive. Just like they always did. God, every fucking time.

"You okay there kiddo?" asked Dean. His tone was light, but that face couldn't hdie anything from Rose: eyes soft, brow slightly furrowed. God knew she'd come to recognize that expression. It was the _what's wrong with Rosie?_ face.

Sam took a small step toward her. "You're looking a little pale."

Rose cleared her throat, an excuse already on the tongue, when Dean gave one for her. He snapped his fingers. "The bandages!" He jabbed a finger at his sister. "You didn't let me redress your chest and back!"

She had to resist a groan. "Dean, they're fine…"

"Talk to the hand, sister." He disappeared into the corridor to retrieve the first aid kid.

Sam sighed; at Rose's dismissal of her injuries or Dean's insistence over treating them, she couldn't tell. He sauntered to the mirror to stand by her and dug his hands in his pockets, meeting Rose's eyes in the reflection. His gaze was soft, but deeply penetrating.

"You gonna tell me what's really up?"

Rose shrugged. "Dean's probably right about the bandages. I should be more careful." She gave Sam a look. "Don't tell him I said that."

"Rose," Sam said, "sweetie, it's okay. You know you can talk to me, don't you?"

"Of course," she said dismissively, breaking away to gather some stuff for her bag. "Just nothing to talk about."

Sam paused. "How many hours you sleep last night?"

Rose didn't respond, pretending to be busy fiddling with a zipper. Her jaw tightened.

"Rosie…" Sam's voice was soft. "How many?"

"Enough."

"Enough meaning what?"

"Enough meaning I'm not gonna set myself on fire during AP biology," she snipped. "Just drop it, alright?"

Sam opened his mouth like he was going to snap back, but he stopped himself. If there was anything he knew about his sister, it was trying to pick a fight with her wouldn't get anywhere. But keeping calm wasn't easy when she was so adamant about ignoring her own health and wellbeing. Two things that happened to mean more to Sam than anything. He took a deep breath.

"You didn't sleep at all, did you."

"Sam," Rose sighed, "stop."

"I'm not mad," he promised, "I just wanna know. That's it."

 _Somehow I doubt that's all there is to it…_ Rose thought to herself, but if anyone deserved her honesty it was Sammy. She pursed her lips.

"No, I didn't. It's been a couple days now."

Sam nodded, jaw clenched tight as he thought of how best to react. Every instinct in his body screamed he do something to help his little sister – rush her to the nearest doctors' practice, tuck her into bed, heat up a mug of warm milk like he did when they were kids. But Rose didn't want his help, and she certainly never wanted his concern. All she ever wanted was to look after herself quickly and quietly. She'd already revealed more vulnerability than she would've liked. He couldn't risk scaring her off now.

Finally he said, "Have you been forgetting to take your -?"

"No. Just can't sleep I guess."

"Well…" he had to be very careful now. "Could something be wrong? Maybe it'd be worth visiting the local doctor?"

"Sam," Rose said, "it's okay. Really. When my body gets tired enough, I'll sleep. Just gotta be patient I guess."

"You need rest, Rosie…"

"Yeah, well try telling that to my hypothalamus."

"Hypothama-what?" Dean asked, letting himself back into the room. He held up a roll of bandages and some scissors. "Sorry I took so long. Had to ask reception for some more first aid stuff. Friggen woman smokes like a chimney."

"Better hurry patching Rose up or she'll be late," said Sam, checking his watch. "And it's a part of the brain."

"Huh?"

"The hypothalamus. It's a part of the brain that regulates sleeping patterns."

Dean nodded, and air of suspicion picking up around him. He said Rose down on a chair and unrolled bits of bandaging. "Right. And that just happens to pop up in conversation because…?"

"Uh," Sam said. Rose shot him a look. _Don't' you dare_. Having adopted the ability to lie on his feet a long time ago, Sam broke into a grin. He shrugged. "I know how hard you may find this to understand Dean, but sometimes adult people such as Rose and I enjoy indulging in intellectual conversation."

Dean rolled his eyes and Rose relaxed. "Ha ha. College boy strikes again."

He did a quick job repatching Rose's bites and scratches, practically forcefed some breakfast into her, and the three headed into the Impala. As they drove along to Clarksdale Public High school about five minutes away, Dean kept glancing back in the rearview mirror. Casting Rose unhappy looks.

Finally he said, "Rose, tell me you're not going to school without a jacket."

Rose hesitated. "Uh…"

"Rose!"

"Hey, it's not my fault! I lost my jacket back in Louisiana. Just…didn't think to get a new one."

He huffed. "Well I can hardly send you to school like that, can I?"

They pulled up outside the school. Dean killed the engine, slid out the door and waited for Rose to get out. There were only a few minutes before the first bell rang.

Sam turned around in the passenger seat to give Rose a final look. "You gonna be okay? Want me to walk you in?"

Rose smiled. She planted a kiss on his cheek. "See you later Sammy."

She slid out of the car and slammed the door closed behind her. Seeing her get out, Dean shrugged off his big leather jacket and draped it over his sister's shoulders. It was totally ridiculous and unnecessary, as plenty of teenagers walking up to the gates obviously noticed, but for once Rose decided not to argue.

"Got some lunch money?" asked Dean, straightening out the collar.

"Check."

"Your silver knife?"

"Check."

"Holy water?"

"Yeah."

"Salt?"

"Yes, Dean."

"What about a pen?"

Rose let herself laugh, if only softly. She held up her plain backpack. "All in here. I'm good."

Dean tilted his head down to properly look her in the face, his eyes pressing. "Are you?"

She rolled her eyes. "For God's sake." At that moment, the first bell rung. "Look, I've gotta go."

She'd only taken two steps when Dean called, "Rosie, wait."

Rose turned back. "What?"

He sighed, walking up to her. "Sorry. You're right, I'll quit pestering." He smiled. "C'mere," and wrapped her up in a tight hug.

"If you ever wanna talk about something – anything – I'm here, alright? Just…let me look after you now and again."

Rose held onto her brother's comforting embrace a minute longer an dpulled back. "Well, I appreciate the offer, but seriously. Stop worrying. It's just…I'd rather look after myself." She took a few backwards paces, waved Dean goodbye, and turned around to head into her first day at Clarksdale Public High School.

Dean watched her go with a frown written into his forehead and a stone-heavy heart. Once she was out of eyeshot he clambered back into the Impala, just sitting there next to Sam in silence.

Sam was the first to speak. "Dean."

"Mm."

"Gonna drive?"

Dean didn't respond for about five seconds. Then, "Haven't decided yet."

Sam took in a deep breath and only released half of it. "Are you sure we're doing the right thing here?"

"We're sending Rosie where she belongs: back at school. How could that be wrong?"

"No, not that. Just…you remember how hard a time she's had at school over the years. Maybe we shouldn't be pushing her back into it so hard."

Dean scoffed. "She took down a full nest of vamps last week. You think she's scared of a few teenagers?"

"Uh, yeah actually. I do."

Dean turned to his brother. "What're you talking about?"

"Look, as sick and whacked-up as this may sound: monsters, Rose is used to. But humans? People her own age?...It's not something she deals with on a daily basis. I think crap like this really gets to her."

"God, Sam," Dean groaned. "Did we do this? Did we screw up our baby sister?"

Sam shrugged, but his shoulders didn't quite come the whole way down. "I dunno, man. I dunno."

They sat in silence again, this time for longer. Both brothers stared out the front window at the empty road. The overcast sky matching the grey colour of the cement.

After five minutes, easy, Dean pressed a hand against his forehead and massaged his eyes with long, deep strokes. "She won't talk to me anymore, Sammy She's shutting herself off completely."

"I know," Sam murmured. "Sleeping less and less again as well. She won't tell me why." He paused. "Hasn't got a wink in forty-eight hours now. Maybe more."

" _Jesus_." Dean shook his head. "We're losing her, Sam. I…I don't know what to do."

"One day at a time," said Sam softly. "First we get through high school. Ease Rose off the hunting. Get her to sleep. We'll go from there."

"Yeah." Dean nodded, still not very satisfied, but placated enough for the time being. He started up the engine. "Yeah, okay."


	5. Chapter 5

***FIRST DAY***

Rose had spent enough time being the new kid to navigate her way around a foreign school campus. The trick was to get from class to class _without_ looking like a total idiot. She always made a point of attaining a map of the campus, committing it to memory, and voila! Blending in. No blind mice here.

It was an excelling scheme, really. One she had performed many times.

Unfortunately, being a fresh face in small-town Clarksdale, Mississippi, that well-polished scheme didn't serve as much protection.

Rose roamed the dim grey halls of her (hopefully final) high school, avoiding eyes at all costs. A few kids here and there made some snide remarks, giggling and snickering amongst each other. God knew what could possibly be so amusing. She'd only been at the damn place five minutes. So she ignored them, just as she always had, and quietly found her assigned locker. Her first class was only a few doors down.

Everything was going fine, absolutely fine: some sticky eyes and muttered remarks following her around was nothing she couldn't ignore. First lesson of the day was English in room G15. Rose chose a seat at the back of the class, pulled out a lined notebook, and waited patiently for their teacher. Other students took their places around her, filling up the room with their incessant meaningless chatter.

And of course, the first thing Ms Pickson announced as she entered the room – the _very first_ thing – was this:

"I have been informed by Dr Simmons that we have a new student joining us today" She stood at the front of the classroom and examined a slip of paper in her hands. "Rose Winchester?"

Rose flinched. Couldn't help herself. All in perfect synchronicity, like one great singular beast, the classroom of students seated before her turned in their chairs. Then came the glaring. God, it never stopped. Didn't these people ever blink?

Finally, if just to kill the silence, Rose cleared her throat. "Hi."

"Where'd you move from, Rose?" asked Ms Pickson.

"Louisiana."

"And what brings you here?"

 _My brothers are sadists,_ Rose almost grumbled. Aloud she said, "Just work."

Ms Pickson sighed. "Not much work to be found in Clarksdale, I'm afraid."

"I'm sure she'll find something," one of the idiot boys snickered to his friends.

Rose turned to look at him, frowning slightly. "Implying what, exactly?"

He shrugged, leaning back in the seat with an air of self-content. "Implying it's never hard for a pretty girl with tits like those to make a little extra cash."

The classroom erupted into quiet laughter – forbidden laughter – and the little pig of a teenage boy flashed Rose a wink.

"That's quite enough, Mr Ford," Ms Pickson sighed. She gave Rose an apologetic look. "Welcome to Clarksdale Public, Rose. I think it's best we start the lesson."

Unfortunately, diving into the many tragic plays of William Shakespeare only served as a temporary respite from Rose's suddenly very popular branding: " _new girl nightwalker_ ".

Well, it had a ring to it. She'd give them that.

"Molly and some other guys saw you get out of a black car with two men in it," some girl jeered in the cafeteria. "Gonna explain that, nightwalker?"

Rose scowled her disgust, suddenly put off her chocolate pudding cup at what the girl was suggesting. "Those are my brothers."

"Yeah, whatever you say," the girl waved her off, trailing away with a group of friends.

"Whore," one of them spat. The others just laughed.

Rose sighed to herself, picking at the yucky cafeteria food. What did it matter what a bunch of bitchy girls said? Didn't mean shit. She was hardly dressed provocatively (Sam and Dean had made damn sure of that). The only crimes she was guilty of were owning a pretty face and a beyond-satisfactory rack. Then accusing her of being her _brothers'_ personal sex slave? Could you _get_ any lower than that?

So no, none of that crap got to her. She wouldn't let it. The worst of the day came when they started incorporating her forehead gash into the joke.

"What's the matter, nightwalker?" asked Joe Ford, the douchebag who'd kicked off the rumor in the first place. He'd caught her outside her locker with one of his buddies before last period. Most students had already gone into their classrooms, some latecomers still wandering through the corridors. No one paid them any notice.

Joe grinned, an awful shark-toothed gesture. "Daddy Pimp not happy with your income? Get a little rough?"

"Aw, ease up Joey," said the guy to her left. He leaned in nice and close to Rose's face and smirked. "Probably a client, right babe? Someone who pays for the real hardcore shift."

"Piss off, asshole," Rose growled. She moved to push past them, but they closed in tighter. There was no one left in the corridor. Everybody had gone to class…Rose was alone.

"I bet that's not even the best part," Joe's friend ignored her. "I bet…she likes it."

" _Begs_ for it more like," laughed Joe.

"Say one more word," Rose warned, "I dare you." If anyone was worth getting expelled for knocking unconscious on the first day, it was this dickhead.

"Alright," Joe said, "no more works."

The relief at this statement was very short-lived. Before Rose had any idea what was happening, Joe fucking Ford had wrapped his arms around her waist and grabbed her ass, squeezing hard.

Instinctively, Rose shoved him off. In hindsight she would've preferred to knee the guy in the balls, but warding off horny teenage boys grabbing at her ass had never been a part of the hunting life. It wasn't something she knew how best to defend herself against. She suddenly felt so small, so weak. Just like any other teenage girl.

And she was scared.

"You stay away from me," Rose demanded in a voice she wished was stronger.

"Yeah?" Joe didn't seem in the least bit fazed. "See, you say that, but I don't believe it's what you really want."

"If it weren't for these classrooms full of people, we'd take you right here and now," his friend hissed.

"You just try it," Rose hissed right back, but her heart was hammering hard enough to crack a rib.

"Know what?" Joe murmured, pressing her back into the locker. He grinned. "I think I will."

Then, his friend making sure the coast was clear, Joe forced Dean's big leather jacket off Rose's shoulders. He flung it to the floor, eyes hot and hungry. He put his hands on her waist and felt up and down in places Rose sure as hell did not want to be touched. But she did something she'd never done before…she locked up. Froze completely in place. Unable to move, breathe, speak.

Finally, as Joe's hands ran up under the hem of her shirt, Rose managed a whisper of, "Stop."

Joe smiled. "But we're having so much fun…" he breathed out the words, hot and sticky, on her neck.

"Dude," he friend hissed, "incoming."

"Shit," Joe muttered, pulling away from Rose at long last. A huge breath flew off her lips, chest deflating. Slowly, she felt her strength coming back to her. _Oh thank God_.

"Hey," called a familiar voice. "Everything good here?"

Rose shifted her weary gaze to a dark-skinned girl with long gleaming legs and dark luscious hair who had approached them in the corridor. Seeing Joe, she folded her arms. Her expression hardened.

"Really, Ford? Those three months of juvenile detention not enough to knock some sense into you?"

Joe shoved his hands into his pockets, avoiding her eyes. "Just making the new girl feel welcome."

"New girl?" the glorious female specimen met Rose's eyes. Her rich hazel irises lit up. "Oh my gosh, it's you!"

Rose didn't respond. She shuffled her feet, nodding once. Her face was burning hot.

"Joey," Joe's friend muttered. He gestured down the corridor. _We should go._

"Uh, yeah," Joe responded. He met Rose's eyes one last time and gave her a sickeningly knowing smile. "See you round…nightwalker."

The boys walked off together and left out the back gates, shoulders high. Joe pulled his hood up. Something about that girl's juvy comment must've really hit a nerve.

Speaking of that mysterious girl, she was now eyeing Rose with genuine concern. She smiled softly, and it was like that space lit up around her. "We've gotta stop meeting this way."

Rose just nodded again. She was still too embarrassed, too emotionally and physically degraded, to speak.

"I'm June," the girl offered, trying to break the ice. "My dad's a lawyer and he, uh…he had Joe Ford detained for a bit late last year. Guilty of sexual harassment, ut I'm sure that's hardly surprising." When Rose continued to say nothing, June picked up Dean's jacket from the floor and handed it to her. "You okay? Ford…well, he's a little rough to say the least. Wish I could say that's the first time he's been caught trying to get it on with a girl who wasn't interested. Not that any girl would be interested in him. Ever. Ugh." She shuddered. "My little creep brother, Zach, ran with Joe's crowd for a while before we sent him off to an all-boys school about forty minutes off." June shook her head, giving that truly room-brightening smile again. "Sorry. Rambling. I do that. What was your name again?"

"Rose. Winchester."

"Well Rose Winchester, looks like you've had a pretty touch start here in Clarksdale." June put a comforting hand on Rose's arm. Warmth and electricity surged through her tender touch. "You doing okay?"

Rose pulled away instantly, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She could feel herself wanting to cry, and she wouldn't let that happen. Not in front of this beautiful stranger.

"Yeah," she ground out, "I'm fantastic."

And she slid past June, down the corridor, out the door, with stinging eyes.

Day one down…and what a horrifically awful day it had been.

In spite of her brothers insisting Rose check in once every couple hours via text message, Sam and Dean only got one meagre update:

 _No pickup. I'll walk home._

 _-R_

Deciding to obey her wishes, albeit grudgingly, Sam and Dean instead waited (rather impatiently) inside their room at the Econo Lodge. The digital clock now read 3:30. Half and hour since school ended.

Dean was already up and pacing the room. "Something's wrong," he declared.

"We don't know that," said Sam, although he was clearly on edge as well. With a hint of hope in his tone, he said, "Maybe she made some friends!"

Dean shot his brother a pointed look. "Does Rose ever make friends?"

"Well I dunno!" Sam threw his hands up. "I'm keeping an open mind here, Dean. Takes the edge off."

"Really."

Sam sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Well, no. But I'm sure it will if we keep trying."

Dean shook his head. "I don't wanna _try_ anything. I wanna get in my damn car and make sure Rosie's okay."

"But she's at school!" Sam tried to reason with both of them. "What the hell kinda trouble can you get into at school?"

Dean paused. "Clearly we've had very different high school experiences."

"Oh God," Sam groaned, "stop, you're making it worse…have you tried calling her?"

"Of course I tried calling her! Like three _freaking_ times already! All straight to voicemail." He pulled out his phone. "I'll try again."

"No, wait," Sam stopped him, "don't want to smother her. You know she hates that."

"I don't care!" dean roared. "Rose isn't here, and I needa know why." He put in her number, called, and once again got no response. "That's it," he growled. "Where are my keys?"

"Dean, just wait," Sam said. "I wanna know where Rose is just as much as you, but give it a little longer. The hour, at least."

Dean groaned, heart torn. "But…"

"If she's gone for an hour and won't pick up her phone, _then_ we'll go looking." Sam sighed. "Then we're officially allowed to be worried."

"But I'm worried _now_!"

"Hey, just calm down okay? I'm telling you, we give it the hour. Maybe call up the school. Just…keep our heads on here."

With a little more moaning and whining, Dean agreed.


	6. Chapter 6

***FIRST NIGHT***

Little did her brothers know, Rose had cut her last class to do something she'd been aching to do for weeks.

She found the nearest bar, and she got fucking hammered.

Screw starting off slow; she marched straight up to the bartender and ordered three rounds of shots. Some of the local daytime drinkers hanging around the bar cast her sideways glances. Half-drunk looks that read shouldn't you be in school?

The bartender leaned against the bench. He must've been fifty or so, with a big stomach, thinning hair and weighty eyes. "Gonna need some ID little lady."

Face hard, Rose pulled out a fifty-dollar note and slammed it down on the bar. "Sure thing. Name's President Grant."

The bartender eyed the cash, pocketed it, and flashed a dirty smile. "Pleasure to have you Mr President. Three shots coming up."

So, that's where she spent her afternoon…. into the evening…into the night. She paid for her first few rounds before the bar filled up with more and more people: middle-aged losers all miserable with their dead-end jobs in their dead-end lives who needed a stiff drink just to keep from blowing their brains out when they got home. To see such a fresh, young face and body of Rose Winchester was more than a pleasant surprise. It was a fucking party.

Suddenly the drinks started coming and they didn't stop, all paid for by horny middle-aged men trying to get in Rose's pants.

"If any of you can beat me at this next game of darts," Rose challenged, her voice slightly slurred, "you can take me home."

The men all cheered, lining up at the dartboard for a chance to get between her sweet young thighs. Of course, none of them won. It was just failure after failure with these pricks. Even totally smashed, Rose was a better shot than any sober asshole.

She lost track of time. Lost count of the drinks. But once she got to that dangerous point where her head was spinning and she could hardly stand, Rose knew she was in trouble.

She shoved her way out of the bar. God knew what time it was, but it was pitch black outside. In the back of her mind she thought about Sam and Dean. Would they be worried about her? Would they care?

Fuck, she thought, sliding to the cement of a damp alleyway. Who would care about me? Look at me…I'm pathetic.

But once that thought of Sam and Dean was in her head, she couldn't get rid of it. Dean tucking her into bed night after night and lying with her until she could sleep, Sam's bear hugs, their incessant worrying. How they always cared no matter what. God, sometimes she truly believed they'd all be better off if those damn boys didn't give a shit.

Then she could finally hunt – really hunt – save some lives and get herself killed a hero. Finally, finally, she'd get to sleep.

Rose must've lost consciousness at some point in that dark alleyway outside the bar. She was so…so tired. The kind of tired where if she fell asleep and didn't wake up again, she'd be okay with that. She would be…totally…totally…okay…

At 2.30am, Sam and Dean were on the verge of a complete and utter breakdown. Fifty-three unanswered calls to their sister's cell, a concerned message from her new school wondering why Rose hadn't attended her last period, and a bunch of students who only snickered at the sound of her name when they asked around.

The brothers searched relentlessly for hours. Scoured every street. Asked every person they could find out and about. At this point, it was a miracle they hadn't called the police.

"We've looked everywhere, man," Dean said, smacking his hand against the wheel as they circled the entire town for the hundredth time. "What if she's taken off again?" He shook his head, tears sore in his eyes. "I can't lose her again, Sammy. I can't."

"Rose wouldn't do that," Sam declared. "Once, yeah, but she wouldn't disappear like that again without even a message. She's not cruel."

"Well what's the alternative?" Dean demanded. "She's been taken? Hurt? Worst…?" He whacked the wheel again. "Damnit!"

Equally terrified and unable to contain himself, Sam pulled out his cell phone. "I'm calling her. Again."

It was at that exact moment Sam's cell phone lit up, vibrating. His heart skipped a beat at the caller ID.

"Dude," he said, "it's her."

"Her," Dean repeated, "as in, Rose her? Our sister her?"

"Yeah, it's Rose – it's Rose!"

Dean's heart was beating so fast he was feeling just about ready to crash the car. "Then what the hell are you doing – answer it!"

"I'm answering I'm answering." Sam flipped the phone open. "Rose, that you?"

"Um, hello?" responded the voice of an unfamiliar young woman.

"Hello, who is this?"

"Sorry man, I just work here."

"Work – work where? How did you get this phone?"

A sigh crinkled across the line. "Look, I came outside to take out the trash and just found her here. She wouldn't get up, so I took her phone and just…you know, thought I should call someone. This number left like a hundred messages – you a friend or something?"

"Woah woah woah, outside where? Wouldn't get up?"

"What's going on?" Dean demanded. "Who's on the phone? Is she okay?"

"Hey man, whoever you are and whatever kind of deal you've got with this chick…she's pretty fucking messed up."

Sam could hardly breathe right anymore: he kept taking in air but none of it was getting to his lungs. "Just tell me where you are. Where you-where you found her."

"Can I just say, everything she did here she chose to do. Okay? We're not the bad guys here. I'm sure Ricky didn't know she was underage. Just…don't call the cops, okay? I really needa keep this job."

"Where are you?"

Another sigh. "Alley outside Ricky's Bar. Corner of Windward and Prince."

"We're coming right now. If you could just like…keep an eye on her and -"

Just like that, the line went dead.

Sam turned to his brother, blood screaming in his ears. "Corner of Windward and Prince. Go."

Dean had never stepped on the accelerator harder in his life. It took them approximately two minutes to pull up into the alleyway behind Ricky's Bar, running two red lights in the process. They jumped out of either side of the Impala, leaving the doors open to sprint down the street. Dimly illuminated beneath a neon sign reading 'Ricky's' was a body sprawled across the cement. A teenage girl tossed aside in a crown of blonde hair and a leather jacket draped over her shoulders.

"Rose!" Dean shouted. "Rosie!"

The brothers fell to their knees at Rose's side – passed out, filthy and reeking of alcohol. Dean pulled Rose into his arms, the top half of her body cradled in his lap. He brushed some hair out of her face while Sam checked for breathing.

"What happened, Rosie?" Dean tried to wake her up. "Hey, up and at 'em baby girl. Show me those big green eyes."

"No breath," Sam said. Horror flooded his features. "Dean, she's not breathing!"

"Well why the hell not?"

And as he said those words, Rose lurched up in Dean's arms and bent over, spewing vomit all across the road. When she was finally done, she collapsed back into her brother's lap in weak coughing fits.

"That would be why," Sam said.

"Rose!" Dean demanded, holding her tighter. He pulled her higher up in his arms so she didn't choke. "Rose, Rosie, talk to me. Say something."

"Mm…" Rose groaned. She squeezed her eyes shut and tucked her chin into her chest. Resisting her brother's care even in this state.

"Rose, sweetie, you gotta tell us what happened," Sam urged, "how'd you get here?"

"Who did this?" Dean added in a low growl.

In response, Rose shook her head. She scrambled out of Dean's arms like she was gonna puke again, but just dry retched on all fours instead. Her body quivered so intensely it looked like she was about to shatter, bits of hair stuck to the cold sweat on her forehead.

Instantly, both brothers were at her side. Sam brushed hair away from her face and rubbed her back while Dean tried to press more answers.

"How'd you get here, Rosie? Did someone touch you? What happened? What happened?"

Finally devoid of her last ounces of strength, Rose collapsed. This time it was Sam she fell into, who collected her against him in strong and gentle arms.

"Rose," Dean was still working at it. He took his sister's face in his hands and forced her to look at him. His expression was stern. Burning with all the rage reserved for anyone who laid a hand on little Rosie. "I need you to talk to me now. I need to know."

Rose squirmed like a dying animal: weak and still refusing to accept defeat. She curled into Sam, desperately trying to hide from Dean's questions. "Why…" she whined.

"Because whoever did this is about to get a bullet in their head," Dean growled, "and I'd prefer not to shoot the wrong guy."

"Dean," Sam hissed. He kept stroking Rose's hair away from his face, holding her soft bur firm. He shook his head. "Not now."

"Yes now," Dean shot back, "whoever left my little sister like this doesn't get to live with it. Not on my watch."

"You want someone to blame?" came a slurred, broken voice. Both brothers shifted their gaze to see Rose open her groggy eyes. She lifted herself just slightly out of Sam's arms and locked eyes with Dean. In that same hoarse voice, she said, "Go ahead and shoot."

Dean scowled. "What?"

Slower, she repeated, "Go…ahead…and shoot."

"Rosie, I don't -"

"Trust me," she slurred, sinking back into Sam's arms, "we'd all be better off."

And then, finally, Rose's eyes fell closed. She was out cold.

Sam and Dean sat there a moment without saying a word. It took a while to process what Rose had just said, and even longer to realize the implications of that.

Dean opened his mouth, "Did she just -?"

"Ask you to blow her brains out?" Sam supplied. He clenched his jaw. "Yeah. She did."

Dean shook his head. He took hold of Rose's hands and pressed them into his lips. "No. No, Rosie wouldn't. She wouldn't say something like that."

"Dean, look at her," Sam said, "she's beyond drunk. The woman I spoke to on the phone said…said she did this all to herself."

"Well that-that doesn't make any sense!" Dean argued. "Why would Rosie do something like that? Find a bar. Get smashed. Pass out in a freaking alleyway! That's not Rose. That is not my baby girl."

"You and I both know she hasn't been herself in a long time now. What if…what if something happened today at school?"

"Something? Something like what?"

"Just…something that drove her over the edge. Made her snap."

"This is a hell of a snap, Sam."

"Well maybe it was a hell of a bad day."

"You know what?" Dean shook his head. "No. I can't do this. Not right now." He stood up, taking Rose out of Sam's arms and carrying her close to his chest. "Help me get Rosie into the Impala. We're taking her home."

"Shouldn't she see a doctor or something?" Sam pressed.

Dean, having walked over to the car with Rose in his arms, turned around. He met his brother's eyes. "We'll look after her."

Nothing more to say, the brothers loaded Rose into the Impala and drove her home. 


	7. Chapter 7

***THE TALK***

It was too bright. Even with her eyes closed, Rose had to squeeze them shut tighter just to block out the light. Never in her life had light been so…. _loud_. Like a buzzing high-pitched whine piercing through her skull.

Rose pulled her knees into her chest and hid her face in the sheets. Sheets? Bed. Must be a bed. When did she go to bed?

"Dean," a muffled voice, "close the blinds."

A mild ruffling noise. The brightness numbed, but Rose wasn't ready to open her eyes. Not quite yet.

"Rosie…you awake?"

Rose held her breath. Maybe if she was super, super still…they'd leave her alone…

Then, suddenly, Dean's voice right next to her: "Rose Winchester, if you don't quit that right now I swear to God I'll give you CPR."

She sighed, releasing the lungful of air that had been held captive in her lungs. Slowly, she rose one eyelid to peer out at the big bad world. Sam and Dean were standing at the side of her bed, arms crossed and faces stern. In spite of Dean's warning, they both conveyed a fleeting expression of relief to see Rose awake.

Against her better judgement, Rose curled herself deeper into the sheets like if she could make herself a tight little ball she'd disappear. Last night was a blurry haze, but she remembered enough to know she was in trouble.

 _Oooohhh God, what have you done…_

Sam smiled softly. "Hey you."

Rose nibbled at the inside of her lip, hardly daring to look him in the eye. "Hey."

He picked up a glass of water from the side table and dropped in two tablets of aspirin. Distantly, Rose heard a quiet pop and fizz. Moving slowly, Sam approached the edge of the bed and sat next to his sister. He held out the glass of water. "You should drink. Been out for a long time - your head must be killing you."

"It's okay," Rose murmured on instinct in spite of the searing pain beating against the back of her eyes. She tried to sit up, only for that searing pain to blast across her entire skull. She hissed in a breath, squeezing her eyes closed again.

Stern expression vanished, Dean pushed Sam aside and sat next to his sister. He smoothed the hair away from her face, eyes soft and concerned. "Sam," he said, and Sam handed him the water glass. Dean slid a hand under Rose's head and gently eased her up.

"Open," he gently commanded.

For the first time in what Dean felt was forever, Rose did as she was told. He tippled a couple mouthfuls of water past her parted lips.

"Good girl. Now swallow."

Rose swallowed. Still avoiding all eye contact, she said, "I know how to drink, Dean." Her voice was hoarse.

"I know you do, baby girl," Dean murmured his response. He eased her head back onto the pillow and swiped a couple stray strands of hair away from her face.

The brothers waited until Rose had drunk the entire glass and half of another glass before striking up the conversation they were all there for. Dean helped Rose sit up in bed, much to her discomfort, but she couldn't deny she needed the assistance right now. Her head was still splitting with pain, ears ringing, stomach churning and eyes burning. Even trying to handle sliding her upper body into a sitting position was enough to make her tremble. God, she was weak. How could she let herself get this weak?

Sam and Dean sat on either edge of Rose's bed. She crossed her legs, just trying to breathe normally. She didn't know if she could do this.

Sam went first. He took a deep breath. "I know you probably don't feel up to talking about this right now, but…look Rosie, I'm sorry, we just really need some answers here."

"And no bullcrap, alright?" Dean added. "We're not idiots, Rose. We know something hasn't been right with you for a while now."

"Whatever's wrong, we're so sorry for not dealing with it earlier," Sam said, "I mean to find you like that last night, it…I…God." Sam looked down. "I don't know what it was exactly that drove you to that point, Rosie, but whatever it is we're gonna get to the bottom of it. Get you better." He looked up, eyes glassy and earnest. "Okay?"

Rose couldn't say anything. There was a big clump of clay stuck in her throat. She nodded once.

"To tell you the truth," Dean said, "I just wanna be mad at you. I want to shout at you and tell you how much you scared us. Scared me. But thing is, I'm not mad. Know why?"

Rose frowned.

"Because I know you, Rosie. I _know_ you, and I know you would never do anything like that - get shitfaced and end up unconscious in a dark alleyway at three a.m. - without something seriously wrong. Whether you're sick, haven't gotten enough sleep, feel messed up from all the hunting, or just had a really crappy first day, I don't blame you. Not for a single second. You got that?"

This time Rose couldn't do anything at all - no words, no movements, no nothing. She just sat there and stared at her brothers, urging herself not to cry. _Don't you dare_ , she said to the tears scratching at her eyes, _don't you fucking dare_.

"All we ask is one thing," Sam murmured, "we need you to talk to us."

"God knows it's the last thing you ever want to do," Dean muttered.

"We just want to help," Sam urged.

"That's the problem," said Rose under her breath. She glared at her hands in her lap.

The boys leaned in. Sam frowned. "What do you mean sweetie?"

Rose took a deep breath. "That's…the problem." She looked up, her face tight with a thousand tears she refused to shed. "I don't want help."

Sam exchanged a look with Dean, then turned back to his sister. "Then…what do you want?"

"I wanna hunt. I…I want to help people. It's all I can _fucking_ think about. Like, when I'm _not_ doing it I -" she cut herself off.

"You what?" Dean pressed.

"I can't breathe. It's the only thing that makes me mean something, you know? Without it, I'm…nothing."

"Rosie -" Sam started.

"I don't _belong_ here," Rose insisted, "at high school around a bunch of normal kids. They know I'm not meant to be here, and they make damn sure I know it as well."

Dean leaned forward. "What're you talking about?"

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. They're right to hate me. Weird new girl who's too screwed to talk to anyone like a normal person."

"Hey, don't say that," Dean said, "you are _not_ screwed."

"So you're not into the high school crowd - neither was I!" Sam insisted. "That's okay! You're only there for another couple years."

"Then what?" Rose asked.

"Then…whatever you want!" Dean told her. "If you want to do some more studying, that's cool. You wanna work, that's cool too. And if you still feel like hunting…we can talk about that later."

"Is that what this is about?" Sam asked in a soft voice, bowing his head to look Rose deep in the eyes. "You just…don't feel like you fit in?"

Rose closed her eyes. Suddenly they were so heavy and stinging like a bitch. "You don't understand," she whispered.

"Then _tell_ us," Dean urged. He saw the pain on Rose's face and how hard she fought to hide it and it was tearing him apart. "Rosie, baby, you just gotta tell us what's going on and we can _help_ you!"

"I can't take it!" she cried out at last. Her eyes snapped back open and tears raked down her face for the first time in years. Her whole body was quivering. "The amount of _hate_ I feel for myself? It…it's overwhelming. Hunting is the only thing that makes that feeling go away. That makes me worth something. When I'm hunting, I'm not weak or scared or pathetic." Rose dug the heels of her palms into her eyes, hoping if she pressed hard enough she wouldn't have to see the disappointment on her brothers' faces. "But going to school, living a normal life, is just one big fat reminder of everything I hate about myself. It broke the illusion I get to live under when I'm hunting: that I'm strong. Those kids yesterday didn't do anything or say anything to me I didn't deserve. Survival of the fittest…" she shook her head, a fresh wave of tears battling to squirm out between her fingers. "I'm sorry about last night. I broke. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Even before Dean had a chance to properly absorb everything Rose had just said, his body reacted: little Rosie was crying, and he had to make it better. He collected her shaking, sobbing figure and held it firmly against his chest. Rose buried her face in his shoulder and bit her lip so hard it bled, just to get herself to stop crying. It didn't work.

Dean cupped the back of Rose's neck and kissed her head. "It's okay, baby girl. You're okay."

Rose curled her fingers into her brother's shirt. He smelt just like he always did: gunpowder, metal, and complimentary body wash from the motel. She could feel the tears on her face mingle with the blood on her lips, stinging and burning, but something about the pain was good. _Right_. A tiny piece of punishment she could give to herself for this horrific breakdown.

"Rosie," Sam came to the edge of the bed with a box of tissues. He pulled out a couple and held them out to her.

She inched away ever-so-slightly from Dean's shoulder to meet Sam's eyes. Immediately he saw the blood streaming from her bottom lip. His face dropped.

"Rosie, hey, hey, hey," Sam said. He wiped and dabbed at her face with the tissues, cleaning away the blood. "Careful, sweetheart. Take it easy."

"Sorry," she muttered through half a mouthful of blood, "didn't realize." It was a lie, but hopefully they wouldn't pick up on it.

"Hey, don't you apologize," Dean told her. He pulled back just enough so Sam could clear up the rest of her face. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Dean," Rose tried to laugh, but ended up just coughing a bit. She shook her head. "Look at me. I'm path -"

"Don't," he stopped her, "don't you dare even say what I think you're gonna say."

"You're having a hard time," Sam agreed, "and that's okay! It happens. But you don't have to go through it by yourself, Rosie."

"You think I want you guys to know about any of this shit?" she spat, twisting her face away from Sam. "This isn't something you were ever supposed to worry about, okay? I can deal with it, I just had a bad day."

"Woah woah woah," Dean said, "if you think for a second we're gonna leave all this crap on your shoulders, think again."

"I don't need your help, Dean."

"We found you passed out in an alleyway last night," he argued, "we're in this now whether you like it or not."

"Dean," Sam warned. He gave his brother the _don't push her_ look. Dean knew it well.

"Okay, okay Rosie, I get what you're saying," Sam tried to reason, "all me and Dean want is to…"

"Look after me, I know. Gotta take care of little Rosie." She shook her head. "I've heard it all before."

"No it's more than that," Sam insisted. "Yeah, you're our sister. But beyond that…we're partners, you know? We live together, work together, hunt together. If you'd rather look at this from a logical standpoint…" he shrugged, "me and Dean need you to be sharp. We trust you with our lives - can't have you slip up. Us helping you through a tough time is just…looking out for both us _and_ you."

Dean gave him a _that's bullshit and you know it_ look, but through the link of brotherly telepathy Sam shot back _shut up I think it's working_.

Rose paused. "That…kind of makes sense."

"Of course it does!" Sam grinned. "Right Dean?"

Dean cleared his throat. "Right, yeah, exactly."

"Sooo," Sam said, "you'll talk to us from now on? Let us help?"

"To make me a better hunter," Rose confirmed.

Sam held back a sigh. "Yeah. Sure."

Finally, slowly, she nodded. "Okay."

And somewhere in the back of Rose's head an annoying little voice sung, _let the therapy begin…_

 _A/N: sorry for such a short chapter friends, school just started back up for me and I've been swamped with work. I'll keep updating I promise, just with longer gaps in between. Sorry!_

 _Anyways, let me know what you think of the story so far (please) :)_


	8. Chapter 8

***MEDS***

When Sam suggested she try some new medication for her insomnia, Rose was completely on board. Whatever she'd been taking these past few years had helped to some degree for a while, but she must've build up some kind of tolerance to them because they sure as hell weren't doing their job anymore. God, she missed sleep. Real, proper, solid sleep. Hell if she could even remember what that felt like.

But _then,_ pulling up into the local doctor's practice, Rose suddenly realized Sam's suggestion would not be as simple as ordering cough syrup over the counter.

Walking for the doors, she stopped. "Um, Sam?"

He nudged Dean and they both turned around. "Yeah?"

"What exactly are we doing here?"

"I booked you in for a consultation," Sam explained, "see what the doc has to say about your sleeping problems.

Rose's stomach dropped. _People. Talking. Problems. Badbadbad._ "I…uh -"

"Yeah, yeah, we get it," Dean half-laughed-half-sighed, "spilling my guts to a white-coat isn't exactly my idea of a fun time either, but it's worth seeing what he can tell us." He took a couple steps toward her and wrapped a big strong arm around her shoulders, pecking the top of her head. "C'mon kiddo, let's get this show on the road." He grinned. "Might even get a lollipop."

"Shut up," Rose grumbled, tucking her chin into her chest so he wouldn't see her smile.

Inside the practice waiting room stunk of antiseptic and puke (so nothing the Winchester's weren't used to). Sam spoke to a woman at the reception desk while Rose and Dean sat down. Dean picked up a _Cosmopolitan_ magazine from the coffee table beside him and showed it to his sister.

"Hey Rosie, check it out: _happy hair - eight new products to make it behave every time_." He grinned. "Page eleven, wanna check it out?"

"Dean."

"What?"

"I've never read a women's magazine in my life."

"Suit yourself," he said, flipping open the magazine and skimming through some pages of photoshopped women talking about their morning workout routines. "More for me."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, almost forgetting for a moment why they were here. Then she heard a voice coming from the corridor at the opposite end of the waiting room.

"Rose Gregopolis?"

 _Yup, that sounds exactly like the kind of name my brothers would make up_. Rose stood up.

A man with thinning hair, small spectacles and a white coat met her eyes. "Come on through."

Dean got to his feet to follow her in. They had already reached the corridor when she noticed he was with her. "Dean," she stopped him, "I'm a big girl now; don't need you to hold my hand in the doctor's seat."

He looked confused, and then hurt. "But -"

"Why not let me handle the grown-up medicine talk, huh?" Sam asked, meeting them in the corridor entry. He gave Dean a meaningful look. They both turned to Rose for the final call.

She rolled her eyes. "Alright."

Sam smirked at Dean; a smug _told you so_ type look. Dean's eyes flashed with childish rage. He held up his fist warningly, but Sam was already following his sister into the doctor's office with a teasing grin tossed behind him.

The two Winchesters entered the doctor's office and Sam closed the door behind them. The doctor was already seated in his desk chair. He offered a dry smile. "Please," he said, gesturing to the patient chairs behind him.

Sam and Rose both sat down, Rose scratching furiously at the dry cracked skin on her knuckles. Her back was straight like someone had jabbed a metal pole down her spine and jaw set firmly. Seeing her discomfort, Sam reached across and gently took her hand for a couple moments. She flinched, turning her head to look at him.

His eyes were soft. _You okay_?

Rose took a moment, and nodded. _Peachy._

 _"_ Alrighty then," the Doctor said, swivelling around in his chair to face them. "Nice to meet you Rose, I'm Dr Cleaver." He met Sam's eyes. "And you must be…?"

"Sam," Sam provided, reaching out to shake Dr Cleaver's hand, "Rose's brother."

"Right. So, what can I do for you today?"

Seeing his sister growing more and more tense by the second, Sam decided to speak on her behalf: "Rose's been having some issues with sleep lately. Well, she's had these issues most of her life, but they're really flaring up again now."

"I see…" said Dr Cleaver, examining a clipboard on his desk. "And have you been medicated for these issues before, Rose?"

Rose cleared her throat. "Yes," she forced out.

"Mm. You've been on 0.25 milligrams of triazolam every night for about seven years now, correct?"

This time she just nodded. When Dr Cleaver was still waiting for an answer, Sam told him, "That's right."

"So what's the problem? Need a new prescription?"

"No," Rose started, "I -" and suddenly she couldn't get out any other words. She had a hard enough time revealing any weakness in front of her family, let alone this total stranger.

"The triazolam is no longer very effective," Sam swooped in to save her, "it just doesn't get her to sleep like it used to."

"I see…" Dr Cleaver murmured. He took a beat, then gestured to the examination bench behind them. "Why don't you go take a seat for me up there Rose."

She paused. "What for?"

"I'd just like to run a couple very simple tests."

Rose looked over to her brother like she was ten years old again, seeking approval before she could act. Sam nodded his encouragement and smiled softly.

She stood up out of her seat and hoisted herself up onto the bench behind them, still scratching away at her knuckles. Sam got up to stand by her, a warm and reassuring presence at her side. Rose released a breath. _For God's sake, calm down._

Dr Cleaver got to work examining her joints, eyes, breathing, asking questions the whole while:

"How many hours do you sleep on an average night?"

"One. Two, if I'm lucky."

"Do you drink?"

"I'm underage."

He smirked. "That doesn't answer my question."

Rose swallowed, avoiding all eye contact. "Sometimes, I guess."

"Drugs?"

"What?"

"I mean are you involved in any recreational drug use?"

"Oh. No, I'm not."

"Besides the drinking."

Sam broke in with a laugh. "Ease up, doc. How many people you know who haven't tried a drink before they're twenty-one?"

Dr Cleaver did not appear amused, but didn't press anymore on the subject. Instead he delved into something far worse: "Do you frequently experience any night terrors?"

"Uh…" this time, Rose couldn't look to Sam for help. If he knew she was getting night terrors again he'd freak out. Worse, he'd tell _Dean_ , and Dean would freak out. Finally, she stuck her gaze to the floor and muttered, "Now and again."

Like the bastard could _sense_ how sensitive an topic this was, he prodded at it with a sharp stick. "How often?"

Rose huffed. "Does it matter?"

"It might," Dr Cleaver told her, seeming increasingly intrigued by her resistance. Sam, meanwhile, was staring down at his sister with a deepening trench in his brow. Her chest tightened. This wasn't something she wanted her brothers to know about. Sleeping was one thing, but nightmares? Fear deeply rooted in her subconscious mind? What could be more humiliating?

"Well, I don't know," she said at last, "you're not meant to remember your dreams." It was a complete lie - every dream was as vivid as reality, even once she'd woken up. Most times she couldn't even recognize she was asleep when they were happening.

"Not necessarily. But alright, I'll rephrase the question: in the one to two hours of sleep you get most nights, how often do you recall _waking up_ from a nightmare?"

Rose rubbed her face against her right collarbone, shooting laser beams into the floor with her glare. Quietly, she muttered, "I don't know."

"Rosie," Sam murmured. Hesitantly, she looked up to see his soft gaze encouraging her. He nodded reassuringly. _It's okay._

She swallowed. "Every time I wake up."

There was a pause. Then, from Dr Cleaver, "Tell me about your mood Rose. On the average day, how do you feel?"

Rose shrugged. "Tired."

"Beyond that. Would you consider yourself to be a cheerful person?"

"Not…exactly."

"How often do you exercise?"

"About an hour most days. Depends on the day."

"Eat regularly?"

"Yeah," Rose said at the same time Sam said, "Not really." They exchanged looks.

Dr Cleaver nodded uncertainly. "Hm. Go out a lot? See many friends?"

"Um…not so much," Rose admitted. This, at least, was something she and her brother could agree on. She sighed. "How much more do you need to know?"

"One more question, perhaps more for your brother." He turned to Sam. "What has Rose's behaviour been like in the past few months? Have you recognized any noticeable differences? Irritability? Recklessness maybe?"

"Uh," Sam frowned, "yeah, I guess. What's this about, doc?"

"Nothing to worry about," Dr Cleaver assured him in a less-than-reassuring voice. "But perhaps…" he eyed Rose again, "Rose, why don't you step out into the waiting room for a minute. I'd like to speak to your brother for a moment alone."

Rose bristled, her heart jumping to a pace twice its regular speed. "Why?" _What have I done now? Fuckfuckfuck I should never have agreed to this_!

"Rosie," Sam repeated in that undyingly gentle tone his voice always carried exactly when she needed it. "It's okay. We'll just take a second." He smiled. "Go find Dean - I can meet you guys in the Impala."

Looking at her, Sam's heart heaved. Her big blue eyes were suddenly so young again when she was afraid. He squeezed her hand and nodded. _It's okay._

So finally, reluctantly, Rose drifted away back out to the waiting room. Dean was waiting for her in the same seat he'd taken when they first arrived, flicking through the _Cosmopolitan_ magazine. His brow was furrowed; completely engrossed.

Rose stood in front of him and folded her arms. "That's gotta be the first thing I've seen you actually read since, well…ever."

"Rosie!" Dean jumped, hurriedly putting the magazine away. "It, I mean I was just…" he laughed uncomfortably. "Some interesting stuff in there. And what're you talking about? I read."

She hardened her look.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Alright, since when does _Penthouse Forum_ not count as reading?"

Rose shook her head, smiling wryly. "Well thank you for that nauseating thought." She gestured the door. "C'mon, let's go."

Dean stood up. "Where's Sam?"

"Sam's…coming."

Dean took a slow step toward his sister, a small frown forming between his eyebrows. "Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," Rose said, slightly sharper than perhaps she needed to.

Dean reached out a hand to hold Rose's arm. "Rosi -"

"What'd the doctor say?"

"Nothing. Just asked question. Look, I dunno. Sam just told us to wait for him in the Impala." Rose pulled away from her brother and squeezed her arms against her chest. "Can we go please?"

"Uh…yeah, I guess." Rose was out the door before Dean could say anything else. They climbed into the Impala, Dean in the driver's seat and Rose sitting up straight in the back. She glared out the window like she was trying to melt the glass, chest tight and breaths limited.

"You gotta talk to me, baby," Dean said, "you promised you'd try."

"There's nothing to talk about," Rose insisted.

"Then what's got you so freaked?"

"I-it's -" she ruffled her hair, cutting herself off to avoid stuttering anymore. God, she _hated_ stuttering. Really needed to work on never doing it ever again. She sighed. "I don't know what it is. The doctor wanted to talk to Sam in private. No idea why, but he didn't look particularly happy about whatever it was."

Dean paused. "I'm sure it's nothing, Rosie."

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"For an excellent liar, you sure suck at bullshitting me."

"Sorry." He offered a weak smile.

A loud unlocking noise followed by a painful creak serenaded Sam's entrance into the passenger seat. He sat down, slamming the door after him. "Hey guys."

"What'd the doctor say?" Dean got straight to the point.

Sam sighed. He turned in his seat to look at Rose in the back. "You doing okay kiddo?"

"Sam," Dean urged.

"Alright, alright," Sam said. He took a breath. "Dr Cleaver just wanted to…gently suggest that maybe…maybe you would be better off visiting someone more… _trained_ in your area of difficulty."

"Meaning?" asked Rose.

"Meaning someone like a psychiatrist."

Rose froze. "He wants me to see a shrink?'

"It was just a suggestion."

"Well fuck his _suggestions_ ," Rose snapped, "I'm not getting my brain picked by some shrink!"

"Rosie -"

"I'm not crazy!"

"We never said you were, baby. We're just trying to help."

"So put me on new meds. Knock me out with a friggen sledgehammer at night if that's what it takes, but this is bullshit."

"Hey, you promised you'd -" Dean started.

"Try. Yeah. I know." She pushed open the door and climbed out, slamming it behind her.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. _Someone's gotta go after her._

"Wait," Sam said, stopping his brother before he high-tailed it after Rose. "Just give her a couple minutes headstart. She probably just needs to cool off."

"Yeah. I remember what happened the last time she just needed to 'cool off'," Dean grumbled.

"Two minutes," Sam insisted, "then I'll go after her myself. Okay?"

"Sam, we can't just -"

"You really think she's gonna have a positive response if you try to do your alpha-male brother thing on her right now? Just give it a moment, Dean! I won't let anything happen to her."

"You damn well better not," he muttered as a warning, crossing his arms in the drivers seat and trying to take deep breaths.

Both brothers started counting down the seconds until it was okay to jump out after Rose, glaring at the clock on the dashboard.

 _One, two, three, four, five…._


	9. Chapter 9

***NIGHT TERRORS***

 _FLASHBACK: (Rose is 11, Sam is 16, Dean is 20)_

It had been over a year now since Dad got Rose on some sleeping meds and banned all the obsessive research. Hell, he hardly let the boys say a damn thing about monsters in front of her all year. Sometimes Dean took off with Dad for a couple days at a time, helping out a hunt, but never Sam. Someone had to stay back and look after little Rosie.

Those days when it was just her and Sam were some of the worst days of her life.

Of course, Sam was the perfect older brother. He always made sure Rosie was eating, keeping up her fluids, got her homework done and took her medicine. If someone was giving her a hard time at school, he would put an end to it. If she got sick, he'd take the day off class to look after her until she was better. 'Gentle and protective' were practically his middle names. Sam Gentle Protective Winchester. Sounded about right.

But it didn't matter: Rose knew why Dean and Dad were gone, and the only time she ever felt relief from the crushing anxiety of their absence were those two minutes every day she got to hear their voices on the phone.

" _Hey Rosie,"_ Dean's voice over the line. He was probably leaning outside a crappy motel room looking out at a foreign night sky. " _How's my favourite girl?"_

"I'm fine." Already those words came to Rose instinctively. She'd been practicing them all year. "Did you catch the monster yet?"

" _Not yet, baby. But we're gonna. Don't you worry about that, okay? It's getting late, you should kick the hay."_

"How's dad?" Roes asked, trying to prolong the conversation. She wasn't ready for him to go yet.

Dean laughed softly. " _Same as always. Really, we're all okay over here. Oh hey! Almost forgot - Sammy told me about the medal you won at sports day. That's awesome, why didn't you tell me?"_

Rose shrugged even though she knew he wouldn't see it. "Dunno."

" _Well, I'm super proud of you baby girl. Dad too. Looks like we've got an athlete on our hands, huh?"_

"Yeah, sure."

A muffled voice in the background that sounded like her dad. " _Dean, come here. Think I found something_."

Dean sighed. " _Coming dad."_ To Rose again he said, " _Sorry Rosie, some stuff I gotta help dad with. You know how it is. I'll call you tomorrow, yeah?"_

"Yeah," Rose murmured, clutching the phone so tight her knuckles were turning white. Oh God, she didn't want him to go.

" _Get some sleep, baby girl. Love you."_

"Love you too."

And just like that he was gone. The line was dead and little Rosie's heart was deep in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't keep doing this; watching the people she loved most take off down the highway into the den of some hungry monster. She couldn't lose them.

Sam walked out of the bathroom in his track pants, tooth brush jutting out of his mouth, just as Rose was putting down the phone. He raised his eyebrows and asked past a gob of toothpaste, "That dad?"

"Mm," Rose responded, hardly daring to say anything more in case her voice broke.

"How much longer they gonna be?"

"Dunno."

Sam paused, catching her restraint. "You okay?"

"I'm good," she told him even before he'd finished the sentence.

He spat out a mouthful of toothpaste into the mini-kitchen sink and came to sit next to Rose on the bed. He gave her a gentle nudge. "Hey."

She managed a small smile, meeting his gaze for a split second before glaring at the phone between her hands again.

"Gonna tell me what's going on in that head of yours?"

Rose shrugged. "The usual."

"That doesn't sound like so much fun."

"It's cool," Rose shrugged, tilting her head down to let a mass of blonde curls curtain half of her face. "Just tired."

He paused again. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Don't have anything to talk about," she muttered. She stood up and popped a couple triazolam into her mouth from the nightstand, swallowing it down with some water. "Do you mind if I turn the bed lights off?"

"No, no, of course," Sam jumped up and helped pull down Rose's bedsheets. She crawled under the blankets and nuzzled her head into the crappy motel pillow, trying to take deep breaths.

Sam tucked her in, pulling the blankets up over her shoulders. He smiled softly, smoothing some hair out of her face. "You try to get some sleep, ok? Dad and Dean will be back before you know it."

"Yeah," Rose whispered. She stared up at her brother with big blue tired eyes and mustered one tiny little smile. "I know."

Sam dropped a soft kiss on his sister's forehead. "Night Rosie." He flipped off the bedroom lights and stood up, wandering into the kitchen a few feet away to finish his homework.

Rose was surprised by how unusually fast sleep found her. Then, when something dark and evil wrapped its razor sharp claws around her subconscious, she understood.

 _Of course. The only time I get to sleep easy is when a hellish nightmare decides to come party in my grapefruit. So typical._

She didn't remember much. There was Dad, and then there was Dean. They were being chased - Rose didn't know what by. Something big and nasty she guessed. All she could really see of it were two glowing red eyes and a mouthful of teeth sharp enough to slice open a brick.

Dean - oh God, that _idiot_ brother - got his foot caught on a tree root and collapsed onto his hands and knees. The monster was two steps from pouncing and ripping him apart when her dad flung a silver dagger into its chest. The thing recoiled, a great dark blob of claws and teeth, but did not fall. Instead it stormed forward, dagger protruding from its great black chest, and ripped her father's spine clean out of his back.

" _NO!_ " Rose screamed. Except she couldn't move. Couldn't even make a real noise.

The monster turned, met Rose's paralysed tears, and revealed a glint of mirth in its crimson eyes. Never looking away from her, the deathly creature gripped Dean by the neck and lifted him into the air so his feet dangled above the ground and he gargled for air.

"Stop!" Rose shrieked. "Stop, _STOP_! Please! _NO_!"

As if simply spurred on by her terror, the beast only glared with a greater amusement than before. It then proceeded to rip out Dean's throat and fling it across the space. Her brother slipped out of its grip and collapsed to the ground with wide, lifeless eyes and a face smeared in his own blood.

Before she could scream, fight or even vomit, the monster turned on her. Its final prey.

"Please," her voice was hoarse now and hardly above a whisper. She knew there was no point.

As the horrific manifestation of her subconscious pounced on Rose's flesh, she only wished she had the bravery to keep open her eyes. But she didn't. She squeezed them tightly shut and released one final, piercing shriek of pure terror.

"Rose! Rose! _Rosie!"_

 _"_ Agh!" Rose screamed, waking up to find herself thrashing about between her sheets, drenched in ice cold sweat. Registering the figure above her, she shrieked aloud again. She pushed herself away, heart beating like it was going to bust out of her ribcage.

"Rosie, hey, hey, it's just me," that same voice reassured her, holding its arm up in a gesture of peace. "You're dreaming, sweetie. It was just a dream."

"Sam?" Rose gasped.

"That's right Rosie, I'm here. I'm here. You're okay sweetheart."

"What…what happened?"

"You had a nightmare I think," he explained, trying to get her to sit still. Despite being awake, she was still tangled in her sheets and writhing to escape their cold damp confines. As if the longer she was trapped in there, the higher the likelihood of the nightmare following her into real life. "Hey, hey just calm down okay? You're alright now."

"How did you know?" Rose demanded, suddenly realizing there might have been a physical manifestation of her night terror.

"You were going crazy," Sam explained, confirming her worst fears, "thrashing around, screaming, scratching yourself up. I thought something had gotten into the room and was attacking you!"

"I'm so-I'm so sorry," Rose gushed, "oh my gosh Sam I'm so sorry."

"Sorry? What, Rose -?" that's when Sam noticed the raw, bleeding scratch marks up and down her wrists and across her neck. "Oh my God, Rosie!"

"I didn't mean to," Rose was crying now and it both terrified her and pissed her off but she absolutely could not stop. "Sammy I'm so sorry I-it was an accident!"

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay Rosie," Sam promised. "Calm down sweetie, you're okay now. Let's just get you cleaned up, yeah?"

She sniffled, clamping down on her bottom lip to get it to stop quivering. "Okay."

Sam lead his little sister into the bathroom and ran some cold water over her wrists until they stopped dribbling little droplets of blood - blood she had _scraped_ out of herself without even knowing it. It stung, sure, but Rose was holding her breath too hard to really feel much above the lightness of her own head.

Unfortunately, after eleven years being her older brother, Sam knew all the girl's tricks: he turned off the tap and gently smoothed a sweaty mass of blonde curls away from his sister's cheek. "C'mon Rosie, don't go holding your breath on me now. Want you to breathe in deep for me, okay? Like this." He inhaled deeply, slowly, and looked at her to do the same.

Reluctantly, Rose followed suit. They repeated this twice more before Sam smiled his approval and smoothed her hair again, this time just for reassurance. "There you go."

He pulled a towel off the railing and wrapped it around her wrists to dry them off before sticking a few plasters here and there. Now the bleeding had stopped he could see there wasn't any major damage, but to think his little sister was capable of doing something like that to herself in her _sleep_ was…more than terrifying.

Oh crap. He had to tell dad. Dean. Both of them.

As if reading his mind, Rose's face dropped. Horror turned her eyes to desperate, pleading saucepans. "Don't tell dad. _Please_ Sammy, don't tell him."

"Rosie," Sam sighed.

"I'll be good," she begged, "I promise!"

"Sweetie, you didn't do anything wrong," he told her, "but this is something dad should know."

"He'll just get angry again!"

"Dad's never angry with you, Rosie, he's just worried. He wants to make sure you're okay." Sam pursed his lips. "And so do we."

"Give me one more chance," Rose refused to give up, "if it happens again I'll let you tell him."

Sam paused, jaw hard, considering. Putting himself in Rose's shoes, he already knew exactly how she felt. The pressing fear of not being good enough, strong enough, healthy enough, for their father's standards. He was raising hunters, not kids. God, Sam hated him for that.

Finally he whispered, "Okay. But it happens one more time, and I'm telling him. I have to."

Rose breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks Sammy."

"But that means I can't tell Dean either. If Dean knows, he'll tell dad for sure."

"I know."

Sam nodded. Finally, his face softened. He knelt down, tucked his sister's hair behind her ears, and looked her deep in the eyes. "You sure you're okay, Rosie?"

Rose smiled; a practiced, perfect curve of the lips. "Yeah."

"Wanna go back to bed?"

Now _that_ was an idea that made her blood run cold. Rose bit her lip. "Um…I dunno."

"Here," Sam's tone was sympathetic. He helped Rose into bed, tucked her in, and sat upright next to her. "How about a story?"

Rose raised her eyebrows. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been read a bedtime story. "Really?"

"Sure." Sam smiled, relaxed against the pillows, and took a deep breath. "Okay then. Once upon a time…"

Although Rose's first brother was true to his promise to keep her latest night terror under wraps, she should've known better than to think it would never happen again. The only difference was that this time….this time Dean was home.

" _Aaaaaagggggghhh_!" little Rosie shrieked less than a month later, still unconscious, back arching off the mattress.

Dean lurched to attention, suddenly alert. "Rosie?"

"Oh no," Sam said, sitting up from the motel kitchen where he'd been doing his homework. "Not again."

Hardly hearing him, Dean rushed to Rose's bedside. He flipped her lamp on to see a mouthful of blood trickling out from between her lips and raw scratches raked down her face by her own nails. His heart just about punched his ribs to splinters. "Jesus Christ - _Rose_!"

He grabbed her shoulders and shook her like a madman, working desperately to wake her up. "Rosie, hey hey hey, Rose! Show me those eyes, baby girl, c'mon!"

"Move," Sam demanded, pushing his brother aside. He crawled onto Rose's bed and gathered her small body to his chest, constricting her arms so she couldn't hurt herself anymore. In a voice far softer and more soothing than Dean's, he crooned, "It's alright, Rosie. It's not real. Wake up now, sweetie. You can wake up now."

"She's _dreaming_?" Dean said.

"Shh," Sam hissed at him. Then to Rose again, who was still shuddering and shivering in his arms, he held her her tighter. "It's just a dream. It's just a _dream_."

"Dad!" Rose gasped, finally jolting awake. Her hands flew up to her face and pulled away brushed with crimson. Her eyes widened, horrified. "Wha-wha -?"

"It was a _dream_ , Rosie," Sam promised. He took her hands away from her face and gently held them between his own, her body still cradled upright against his chest. "You're fine. You're okay now."

"But," Rose whimpered, "but dad -"

"Dad's okay too," Sam added. "Take a minute to relax and you can tell me what happened, yeah?"

"Rosie," Dean leaned in and took his sister's scratched up face between his warm, calloused palms. He caressed away a line of blood with the tip of his thumb and Rose flinched against her will. "Rosie, baby, what happened? Why the hell would you do that to yourself?"

"I-I-it was an accident," she gushed, "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize, Rose," Sam murmured, "it's okay. It's not your fault."

"What _happened_?" Dean pressed.

Rose pursed his lips. "It was just a bad dream."

"That was a hell of a lot more than a dream. Look at you, baby! God…" He dabbed at another line of blood down her cheek, his jaw set tight. "Sammy, carry her into the bathroom. Let's get her face cleaned up. See the damage."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, cradling his sister bridal-style across the motel room. He sat on the edge of the bathtub with Rose planted firmly on his lap, ready to be taken care of.

Dean ran a flannel under some water and dabbed at his sister's face until the bleeding had stopped and all that was left were several meaty lines of flesh drawn from her forehead to her jawline. The blood in her mouth must've come from biting her tongue too hard. (Apparently she had a knack for doing that from an early age).

Even when she was clean, Dean held a wet flannel against the side of Rose's face for a few moments, just staring at her with that deep concern she hated to recognize so well. "This isn't the first time this has happened, is it?"

Sam readjusted his sister on his lap, avoiding Dean's eyes. "Not exactly."

"What, and you didn't think to _tell_ me? Or dad?"

"Don't tell dad," Rose blurted out, "please don't tell dad."

"I don't really gotta choice here, Rosie."

"It's not so bad," she promised, "and I won't do it again."

"Sweetie," Sam sighed, "Dean might be right. Last time you promised if it happened again…"

"But it might go away!"

"Listen to me Rose," Dean said, "there's no way in hell I'm gonna take the chance that something like this might happen again. We tell dad, we get you medicine or witchdoctors or hoo doo or whatever, but we're gonna fix this. I'm never gonna let you wake up screaming and bloody again, you understand? Not on my watch."

Rose didn't look at him. She couldn't. No matter how much she wanted to argue, to insist she would be fine, she knew her brother. She knew there was no point.

There were still a few more night terrors to come after that, but once her dad got Rose to visit a spirit healer and had her charmed with some special restfulness spell, she woke up screaming less and less. What her dad didn't know, what her _brothers_ didn't know, was that she still got the nightmares. Every. Single. Night. The only difference now was…she couldn't move. Couldn't scream. She was paralysed in her own mind until her dark subconscious was done with her.

 _Some spirit healer_ , Rose thought to herself every morning since. _Dad should get his money back._

Sleeping had never been easy for Rose, but with a fresh hell waiting behind her eyelids every night…it was hard to even find the motivation to submit her head to the pillowcase.

Even now.


	10. Chapter 10

***HEALTHY BODY, HEALTHY MIND…RIGHT?***

 _Present day_

Dean woke up to a dull throb in his lower back and one hell of a kink in his neck. He opened his eyes to realize he must've passed out in the crappy motel kitchen chair, body slumped over the table. An empty bottle of whiskey stared him in the face as his vision came into focus.

He groaned, stretching out his back. The vertebras all clicked into their rightful position like a boney symphony. _Damn_ , he thought to himself, _why can't I just sleep in a bed like a normal person?_

Unfortunately, this question reminded him of exactly why he was out of bed. He'd been sitting up, unable to rest, worrying about his sister trying (and probably failing) to get some sleep in the next room. She insisted on being left alone, as she had for the past five nights since they visited the doctors' practice.

"Is it true what you said to the doctor?" Sam had asked in a soft voice on the way home. "About the nightmares?"

"Wait, nightmares?" Dean chimed in. He glanced around briefly into the backseat where Rose sat. Her arms were folded and she glared out the window with eyes so hot they could probably melt the glass. "Like the ones you got as a kid? I thought we dealt with those ages back - Dad got some hippie spirit lady to fix you up."

"Yeah, but all she really did was stop the physical manifestations," Sam had explained, choosing his words delicately. Rose had been more than somewhat reluctant in letting this information past her lips when he finally caught up to her. The topic more than a little bit sensitive.

Dean had frowned. "What does that mean?"

"Means baby Rosie still gets bad dreams," Rose muttered from the backseat in a sardonic tone. "Just can't move when they happen."

"Like sleep paralysis," Sam provided.

" _Paralysis_?" Dean demanded. "What the hell? How long's this been going on?"

Rose shrugged. "How long since Dad took me to the spirit healer?"

"'Bout six years."

"About six years then."

"Wh- _what_? You've gotta be friggen kidding me! You've still been getting those dreams this whole time and didn't _tell_ me?"

"Eyes front, Dean," Rose had sighed, "road rage is one of America's biggest killers."

"Rose!"

"Look, just figured it didn't matter alright? Cause it doesn't: I'm still sleeping, more or less. No more of that screaming and scratching crap. Everybody's happy."

"Bull _crap_ everyone is happy," Dean snapped back, "I am not happy! I am not happy one bit!"

"Dean, they're just nightmares. Not gonna kill me."

"But -"

"Dean," Sam had cut in finally. He gave his brother a meaningful look that said _not now. We can talk about it later._

And _that_ conversation had not been a fun one. Once Rose had finally gotten the boys off her back so she could spend the rest of the day in peace, Sam and Dean had a good long talk. The problem wasn't that they disagreed about the issue: Rosie was still seeing blood guts and monsters every time she happened to fall asleep (which was rare enough as it was). The problem was deciding how best to deal with it.

"We find her another spirit healer and get them to voodoo the crap out of her head," Dean proclaimed.

"We already tried that," Sam sighed, "and apparently it didn't do a whole lot. I think it might be better to take a more…human approach."

"Huh?"

"I talked to the doc, and he really thinks someone like a psychiatrist could help Rosie. Get through to her."

"She's not crazy," Dean argued.

"I never said she was! But this has gone on too long, Dean, and we both know it's getting worse. We're running out of other options."

"Yeah, well, good luck getting Rose on board with that idea."

"We'll…cross that bridge when we get to it."

Five days later, that bridge was yet to be crossed. Instead, Dean woke up in an empty room and crossed the hall to find Rose's room also unoccupied. He sighed. They must've been out, running again. Seemed to be the only thing Rose wanted to do these past few days: run. Train. Like no matter how screwed up it got inside her head, her fitness would always be perfect.

Dean had just finished tampering with the coffee machine in his motel room long enough for it to produce some funky black liquid that vaguely resembled coffee when he heard footsteps in the hallway. Coffee mug in hand, he opened the door to find Rose jamming a key into her door.

"Hey there Usain Bolt," Dean smirked, leaning against the doorframe.

Rose tossed a brief smile over her shoulder. "Morning." She opened her door and closed it behind her before Dean could say anything else.

Dean sighed and wandered back into his own motel room, leaving the door open in case Rose decided she wanted to spend some quality time with her big brother…he didn't like his chances.

Five minutes later Sam came jogging through the door, drenched in sweat and breathing hard. He bent over and rested on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

Dean arched an eyebrow. "You alright there Sammy?"

Sam held up a finger, indicating he needed a moment. A couple seconds laters he stood up and mopped some sweat off his forehead, still panting. "Rose…she…she… _damn_ she's fast."

"She creamed you huh?"

"She's like a _machine_!" Sam wheezed. He trudged over to the kitchen sink and turned the tap on, sticking his head under the nozzle and gulping the water back.

Dean chuckled, taking another sip of that godawful coffee. "Well I was gonna take a shower, but uh…well, you need it more than I do." He sat down. "I'll wait."

Sam wiped his lips with the back of his hand. "Thanks." He made his way into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. A couple seconds later Dean heard the shower running.

Dean stayed sitting for another moment, occasionally sipping a bit of coffee. He sighed. "Well I'm bored," and stood up, walking across the hall to Rose's room. He was about to let himself in with his own key, but reconsidered and instead knocked. "Hey it's me, open up."

There was a pause. Dean heard a soft thump like something had just dropped to the floor. He frowned, pressing his ear against the door. "Rosie?"

The lock turned and the door swung open. Rose stood behind it, shiny with sweat. "Hey."

"Uh, hey," Dean raised his eyebrows, "what're you doing in here?"

"Workout," came her blunt response. She let him in and got back to work; doing some push ups on the floor. Dean closed the door and folded his arms, watching the muscles strained on his sister's back as she lowered herself down and rose back up.

"Butching up, are we?" he joked.

"It's just a workout Dean," she ground out.

"At this rate you'll be bench pressing for the olympics by next season."

"You got a problem with me exercizing?"

"Course not."

"Then what's the issue?"

"Just, uh…I dunno, seems a little excessive doesn't it? Don't want you to overwork yourself."

Rose rolled onto her back and started on a round of sit-ups. Dean had to bite his tongue at the bite scars across her stomach and the ribs jutting at her flesh. There was keeping fit, and then there was…Dean sighed.

"Well all this crap's gotta make you hungry, huh? I'm gonna head out in a few, pick up some stuff from the diner down the road. What d'you want?"

"Coffee would be good," Rose said, never stopping her movement.

"Coffee ain't food," Dean told her, "how 'bout…I dunno, pancakes? You used to love pancakes."

"Uh, yeah. Whatever. Just don't forget the coffee. Please."

"Sure thing." He turned around and made for the door. "Get showered, I'll be back in fifteen or so."

"Dean, wait."

He stopped. "Yeah?"

"I, uh…" finally finished, Rose got to her feet. She pulled some hair back off her face, catching her breath for a second. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

Officially curious (and more than a little concerned), Dean nodded slowly. "Shoot."

"I have a proposition to make."

"I'm all ears."

She moved to the table beside her notably unslept-in bed and picked up a local newspaper. On the third or fourth page, she'd circled one of the articles in red pen. "It's about this."

She handed Dean the paper and he skimmed the story for a few seconds. _Three accidental deaths in the last month…unexplainable…tragic…town struck with fear and grief…details of the incidents still uncertain…_

Dean frowned, looking at his sister over the top of the paper. "A case?"

"Just a few towns over."

"I dunno, Rosie…" he muttered, reading over it again. "Not much to go on."

"I know. Checked the local police database, and it gets a lot weirder. One guy choked to death on a bunch of old coins, some woman burned alive by her shower water, and another ripped to shreds by a blender." Rose's eyes were hard. "Trust me, there's something there."

"Alright," Dean sighed, "maybe there is. Me and Sammy can deal with it. You're not ready to be back in the field yet."

"Had a feeling you'd say something like that. Hence," she smiled, "my proposition."

 _Here we go…_ Dean thought.

"You let me work with you on this case - I mean both in the field and research here - and I'll go back to school. No more arguments."

Dean folded his arms. "Tempting. But in case you forgot, last case you worked a bunch of vamps practically strung you up as a living, _bleeding_ sex doll."

"This is different. You guys will be there."

"Answer's no, Rose. End of story. No way I'm letting you get hurt like that again."

Rose released a breath. She rubbed her forehead, closing her eyes for a moment, and hesitated. "Fine. Guess that leaves me no choice but to…sweeten the deal." She looked up at her brother. "You let me work this case, both feet in, I'll go back to school and…" she sighed, "and I'll start seeing that psychiatrist you guys are so eager for me to visit."

Dean blinked. "What?"

"I'll see the friggen shrink, alright? Just…let me start hunting again."

Dean knew full well this was the best deal he was ever gonna out of his little sister, but he couldn't help the churning in the stomach at the prospect of her back in the field so soon. "Rosie…"

"It's a fair trade," she insisted, "and you know I've got a real case here. You guys get what you want, I get what I want, everyone's happy." Her eyes were big. "C'mon, Dean. Let me do this. _Please_."

"I'll…I'll think about it, okay?"

Rose huffed out her exasperation. "Yeah, I know what that means."

"I mean it."

"Yeah well, by all means take your time," she muttered, "not like people are dying or anything…"

With that, Rose walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Dean was left standing in the room, a hundred complaints on his lips. _It's not safe. Not even a week has gone past since the last hunt. I don't want you to get hurt. No, I can't_ watch _you get hurt again._

He needed to talk to Sam. Get the opinion of someone who was tended to be a little less insane than his sister right now.

But when he confronted Sam with the scenario, his response was not what he'd hoped for. Sam paused, standing in the bathroom doorframe with a towel wrapped around his waist. "Huh. She really said that?"

"Yeah, school and therapy in exchange for some hot monster action." Dean shook his head, waiting for Sam to agree enthusiastically. "Crazy, right?"

"I dunno," Sam contemplated, "I mean, sure I don't want her to be hunting so soon after the vamps, but I get the feeling this is a one-time offer."

"Don't tell me you're actually _considering_ this?"

"Dean, she could be asking for worse things. Look, it's just one small hunt. And we'll be with her the whole time. But Rosie getting a shot at feeling herself again - being _healthy_ \- you don't think that's worth the risk?"

"I…It just feels like too much too soon, y'know?"

"Yeah," Sam laughed dryly, "trust me, I get that. Just thinking this could be our only shot to get Rose back on the right path."

Dean paused, unhappy. "So that's it? We let her back into things, just like that?"

"No." Sam smiled. "First, we research. See what we're dealing with."

"Well she's found herself a real case, that's for damn sure."

"Where?"

"Couple towns over. _Horn Lake_ I think it's called."

"Alright then." Sam took a deep breath. "You get the Impala filled up and I'll call in to book Rose an appointment with that psychiatrist Dr Cleaver recommended."

Dean set his jaw, an uneasy feeling still in his stomach. "We really gonna do this?"

"Seems that way." Sam, seeing the steel in his brother's face, offered him a tight smile. "It's gonna be alright, man. We'll look after her."

Dean coughed out a single laugh. He collected his keys from the coffee table and headed for the front door. "Rose doesn't let anyone look after her."

"When has that ever stopped you?"

Hand on the doorknob, Dean turned back. He shared a knowing smile with his brother, turned the handle, and stepped out into the hallway. Rose would be out of the shower soon, and God help the sorry soul who forgot to pick up her coffee.


	11. Chapter 11

WITCH HUNT

It was nearing midnight the next day when the Impala passed a sign that read HORN LAKE: _pop._ 26,635. Dean was at the wheel, Sam slumped against the window in the passenger seat. Meanwhile, Rose was up and alert in the back. Eyes keen and sharp even through the dark, she went through her collection of rifles; unloading, cleaning, reloading, examining. Over the rumble of tires on the highway Dean couldn't hear much, but every few seconds or so there'd be the faint _clu-cluck_ of a barrel sliding into position. The _chink_ of bullets being placed in a magazine and then attached to the nozzle.

"Rosie," he sighed at last, "unless you're planning on shooting someone with those, I think it's time to put the toys away."

Rose didn't respond for a few seconds, caught up in her repetitive and systematic examination of the weapons. Then, "Huh?"

He met her eyes in the rearview mirror. "You should get some shut-eye."

She shook her head, still not really paying attention to him. "No point, we're almost there anyway."

"Just give the inventory a rest then. You've gotta checked them all a hundred times now, it's driving me nuts."

"Oh. Sorry," Rose said. Slowly, reluctantly, she placed the rifle between her hands on the seat beside her. "Something sort of…therapeutic about the whole process, you know?" She sighed, forcing herself to tear her gaze away from the weapons and out the window. "Helps me relax."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, sometimes."

He snorted. "Guess that shouldn't surprise me."

They pulled into the first motel they found, guessing there wouldn't be a whole lot in a small town like this. Seeing the internal argument on Dean's face as to whether he should ask for one or two rooms, Sam cut in.

"Two rooms please."

Dean shot him an unhappy look, but Rose offered a small grateful smile. The last thing she needed was her brothers monitoring her as she lay in bed, unable to fall asleep.

As they were splitting into separate doors, Sam gave his sister a short kiss on the forehead. "Just shout if you need anything."

"We're right across the hall," Dean assured her.

Rose let out one dry laugh. "I think I know how to put myself to bed."

"Alright, well, we'll come knocking around seven or eight. Sound good?"

"Perfect." Rose smiled; tired, forced. "Night."

As guilty as it made him feel, considering he knew Rose probably wouldn't fall asleep for another few hours, Dean hit the pillow and was out instantly.

What he could've sworn was only a few minutes later, Sam was shaking his shoulder. Dean groaned, blinking hard to get the grogginess out of his eyes. "Wha' time's it?"

"Eight," Sam responded. "We slept in." His face was stern; the kind of stern it got when something was wrong.

Dean frowned and struggled to a sitting position. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." A pause. "Probably."

"Not sure I like the sound of that," Dean muttered. Then his mind made the next jump. "Where's Rosie?"

"Well, that's kinda the problem."

And just like that Dean was completely awake. He slid onto the edge of the bed and demanded, "Problem? It's a simple question, Sam - _where's Rose_?"

"I checked her room, she's not there. Bed's made up, bags still there, but couldn't find her. She must've gone out."

"What, and you're just keeping _cool_ about that?" Dean snatched his phone off the bedside table. "I'm calling her."

"You can try, but she didn't pick up for me," Sam told him. "Just chill out for a second, alright Dean? I told you, her bag is still there. She can't exactly get far without that."

"Then where is she, huh?" Dean snapped. "Where'd she go without stopping to tell us? _Damnit_." He put the phone down. "Straight to voicemail."

"Best guess, I'd say running. She doesn't take her phone running."

"Then what's the point in even having the damn thing!" Dean stood up and tugged a pair of jeans on, not even bothering to change his shirt. He grabbed the Impala keys. Then he stopped, scanning the room frantically. "Where are my boots?"

"You're gonna go looking for her?" Sam said. "Dude, what are you so worried about? It's _Rose_."

"Yeah, exactly, my insomniac hunt-crazy little sister has mysteriously gone out before eight in the morning and I'm not gonna go look for her. Sam, for all I know she's on some delusional parade barefoot down the highway. She's _not ready_ to be back in the field on her own. Or anywhere. So you're damn right I'm going after her."

Sam couldn't help himself. Yes, of course he trusted his sister. But he was also wired to look after her, protect her, no matter what. If there was even the slightest probability something wasn't right here, he couldn't take the risk of ignoring it.

He nodded. "Give me the keys. I'll get the car started."

Dean chucked his brother the keys to the Impala so he could yank his boots on. Sam marched for the hallway, swung open the door, and would've collided into a young blonde woman in a skirt-suit if she didn't step back with feline instincts.

"Crap, I'm sorry," Sam stuttered out, "I wasn't expecting anyone to be behi-oh my god."

Low and behold, that young blonde woman in a skirt-suit with feline instincts was his little sister Rose. He hadn't recognized her in the smart attire, hair pulled up into a professional bun, and layers of make-up. She was holding a paper tray of coffees between her hands and a bag from the closest diner hung over her arm.

"Going somewhere?" she asked.

"Uh, no." Sam cleared his throat. "Guess not. Where've you been?"

Rose smiled. "Working. Gonna let me in?"

"Yeah, yeah," Sam held the door open wider to let Rose through. She placed the coffees down on the table and pulled a few wrapped goods out from the diner bag.

Dean, having just emerged from the bathroom with his other boot, called out, "Alright I'm comi- hey who're you?"

Rose stood up straight and folded her arms. "It's me, dumbass. That sister you've had for seventeen years or so."

" _Rose_?" Dean's eyes bulged. "What the hell are you wearing?"

"I'm an FBI agent, can't you tell?" she smirked.

"You look twenty-five."

"Damn," she muttered, "I was going for thirty."

"Seriously, Rose?" Dean demanded. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Getting breakfast, for one. Might want to eat before it gets cold."

"You were working on the case, weren't you?" Sam said from behind her.

Rose turned around, trying not to look guilty. "That's what we're here to do, isn't it?"

"Yeah, _together_ ," Dean reminded her.

"Look, you guys were still out cold by the time I actually left. I would've woken you up, just…well, honestly, I thought you'd still be asleep by the time I got back."

"Hang on," Sam said, "how long have you been up exactly?"

Rose shrugged. "Two hours. Maybe three. Went for a run, showered, got changed and thought I'd talk to some locals. Get a kick start and all that."

"You mean to tell me they believed you're FBI?" Dean scoffed.

"Hey, you don't think I look legit?" Eyebrows raised challengingly, Rose pulled a badge out of her trench coat pocket. She let it fall open in front of Dean's face and waited expectantly for his reaction.

Slowly, reluctantly, Dean took the fake badge to examine closer. He squinted at it, trying not to reveal how impressive it was. "You made that yourself?"

Rose nodded.

Dean paused. "Sam help you?"

"No."

Sam advanced on the pair. He snatched the badge out of Dean's hand. "Let me see that…" His eyebrows shot up. "Jeez, Rosie, this is, I mean it looks…" he laughed, "real."

"What can I say? Sometimes art is deceptive." Rose smiled again. She seemed to be doing that a lot more often all of a sudden. "Eat your breakfast, and put a couple suits on. We'll go to the local PD in ten."

She took back the badge and made her way for the door. Dean called out, "Hey, where're you going now?"

"Need to reapply my lipstick!"

With a slam of the door, she was gone. Sam and Dean stood there quietly for a couple moments, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened to their little sister.

"Dude, calm down for a second would you?" Sam sighed ten minutes later, straightening his tie in the mirror. "She seems happy, so what?"

"So what? So _what_?" Dean demanded. He stormed out of the bathroom, having furiously brushed his teeth, to glare at his brother incredulously. "Don't you see what this is? We just let a junkie back into a closet full of meth. Of course she seems happy, she's relapsed!"

"This is what we signed up for," Sam reminded him. "School and therapy in exchange for -"

"For a hunt, yeah I know." Dean signed, rubbing his forehead. "I know."

"Good. So let's do this, okay? I hate bringing her back in the field as much as you do, but it's pros versus cons here Dean. At least this time we'll be with her." He checked the digital clock on the nightstand. "C'mon, let's go."

Unusually, Rose was the chattiest person in the Impala on the drive to the local PD. Details of the case had seemed to magically dominate every insecurity and weakness she'd let slip in the previous weak. Suddenly she was the Rose they knew and loved again: the Rose that was happy. Lively. Confident. As she spoke from the backseat, Sam and Dean kept exchanging conflicted looks. One the one hand, this was already a major improvement. On the other, it was all about the hunting. There was still something not quite right about that.

Talking to the Chief of Police, Rose was the perfect agent: blunt, humourless, observant and on-task at all times. Nothing between her and the case. Hell, at times her _brothers_ even bought the act.

Once they were done at the station, Sam suggested they hunt down a couple of the last vic's buddies for a few questions. As they drove to the nearest address, Rose was busy scrambling around in the backseat. Every time Dean glanced back at her in the rearview mirror all he could see was a flash of loose clothing. Maybe a burst of hair. He frowned. "The hell are you doing back there?"

"Scene change," she grunted, pulling a fresh shirt over her head. "Gotta look the part."

When the pulled up at the guy's house, Rose stopped her brothers from opening their doors. "I got this one," she told them, and was out of the car before they could argue. Suddenly clothed in a pair of worn jeans and a tight-fitted tank, she jogged up the steps and rung the doorbell. Sam and Dean watched her get invited in and led through the door.

 _That's_ when Dean finally exploded.

"I don't like this," he declared.

"Mm," was Sam's only response. He wasn't gonna admit it, but he didn't like it a whole lot either.

"She's too comfy with this whole gig," Dean went on, "she's plunging into it too soon."

Sam smirked. "You're just upset cause she's a better hunter than you."

"We should be in there with her," Dean said, ignoring him. "For all we know, _he's_ the monster."

Sam frowned, examining the exterior of the little suburban house. "You really think Mr White Pickett Fence here is our witch?"

"Well _no_ , but I think I don't like Rose alone in a house with a strange man! Is that so unreasonable?"

"Dean, enough," Sam said, "I get it, you don't want Rose hunting. You hate letting her out in the field. Know what? Right now, I feel the exact same. But if you don't let her do this, she's only gonna get worse."

"Really? Cause right now I'm thinking _this_ right here is what's gonna make her worse. Solve the hunting addiction with more hunting? C'mon Sammy!"

"Long-term benefits," Sam sighed, "remember?"

Dean rubbed his forehead. Yeah, he remembered. Didn't make this part any easier.

It was a long wait before they saw Rose come out of the house again. The front door swung open as she was saying a last goodbye over her shoulder, before she came bounding down the steps toward the Impala. Her face was streaked and blotchy with tears, eyes dripping wet. Instantly, both brothers straightened to attention.

"Crap," Sam blurted. Dean didn't waste that time.

He opened the driver's door and got out of the car, catching Rose by the arms just as she reached the pavement. "Are you hurt?" he demanded. "What the hell did that dickbag do to you?"

"Get in the car, Dean," Rose ordered between her teeth.

"Like hell I'm gonna get in the car!" he snapped back. "I'm gonna go in there and rip that guy's head off!"

"Dean, seriously," Rose looked him hard in the eyes. There was no pain in her expression, no terror or sadness. "Just get in the car."

Reluctantly, Dean did as he was instructed. It was that monotone voice that got him; the weird conflict between a grief-stricken face and a neutral tone. Both siblings slammed their doors behind them.

"Drive. Now." Rose said.

"What happened in there, Rosie?" Sam demanded as Dean turned the ignition on. "Are you okay?"

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a great big grin broke out across Rose's face. Pinpricks of tears still clinging to her corneas, she started to laugh. Sam raised his eyebrows. Dean glanced back in the rearview mirror.

"Is this some mental breakdown?" he asked. "Rose, are you having a mental breakdown?"

"Pull over," Sam ordered, "Dean, stop the damn car!"

 _This is it_ , Dean's mind told him, _she's finally snapped. You knew something like this could've happened! Well done, you've let your little sister go completely mental. Well_ friggen _done._

He swerved the Impala into a side street and slammed down on the brakes. The tires squealed against the road, car coming to sharp halt. Both brothers spun around in their chairs to see little Rosie still laughing away, now wiping the tears off her face simultaneously.

"Rose, sweetie," Sam's voice was slow and careful, "do you wanna tell us what the bad man said to you back there?"

"Ah," Rose wheezed, drying her hands off on her jeans. "You guys."

"She's lost it, Sammy," Dean declared, "look at her, she's completely lost it!"

"Oh shut up," Rose sighed. She was still grinning. "I mean, I knew I was good, but the looks on your faces…wow. No wonder the guy spilled his guts so fast."

"What did he _say_?" Sam pressed.

Rose's eyebrows shot up. "Seriously? You still haven't caught on?" She laughed again. "Guys, I was faking it. Getting all emotional so the guy would talk to me."

The brothers paused. Then, "What?"

"I told him I was Aaron Keller's - the last vic's - niece. Said I was looking for more details about his death. And damn, when the waterworks came out, he gave me _everything_."

Dean's eyes bulged. "You serious?"

"So that - the tears, the shaking, the whole thing…that was an act?" Sam clarified.

"I know," she smiled, "I'm good. Well, good enough you idiots bought it."

Dean shook his head in disbelief. Finally, his heart rate fell back into its regular tempo. "Christ, Rosie. You scared me."

"Mm," she muttered, "well, if a few crocodile tears scares you, you're not gonna like this next part."

"What is it?" asked Sam.

"I found our witch."

Another pause. Sam frowned. "You…are you sure?"

"Unless the black magic altar stashed away in the wife's closet was just for the incense, then yeah I'm pretty damn sure."

"Well…" Sam whistled out the exhale, "I've gotta give it to you, Rosie: you're good."

Rose half-smiled. "Save the compliments for _after_ we've bagged this bitch, yeah? Doesn't count until then."

"' _We_ ' nothing," Dean said, "you've done more than enough now, baby girl, leave the rest to the grown ups."

Rose laughed once. "Not likely."

 _"Rose_."

"Hey, I picked out the case, I got the details, and I found the witch. There's no getting rid of me now."

"Like hell there's not!"

Rose folded her arms. "Either I head out with you tonight, or the deal's off. No school. No shrink."

"Damnit, Rose!"

"Dean," Sam warned. He gave his brother a hard look. _Don't screw this up now._

Dean groaned. "For God's sake…" he closed his eyes, "fine, _fine_ alright! You can come tonight. But the first sign of trouble and you're out of there, you got that?"

"Sure," she told him in that voice he knew meant total bullshit, but there was nothing more he could do.

Dean started up the engine again with an angry flourish of the hand and reversed out of the side street. From the passenger seat, Sam released a sigh.

"I guess compromise really is the key to a successful relationship."


	12. Chapter 12

***LINDSAY***

" _Duck_!"

A kitchen knife soared across the room straight for Dean's neck. If Rose hadn't called out just in time, he'd have been skewered. He dropped to his knees, the knife slamming into the wall over his head.

"What the hell is happening?!" screamed the witch's idiot husband.

"Your wife is a crazy bitch is what's happening," Dean grumbled. He swiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand and lead the husband behind the kitchen bench. "Stay low. We'll tell you when it's safe to come out."

"But Lindsay -"

"Lindsay has been cheating on you for about a month now," Rose told him.

" _What_? With who?!"

"Satan."

Rose was in the process of brewing some witch-killer concoction in a big mixing bowl; darting about the kitchen, plucking out various herbs. They'd already tried the simple bullet-to-the-head option to take the bitch down, but apparently she'd cast some sort of invincibility spell on herself. The only way to stop her now was to reverse the spell.

" _Raaaagh_!" Lindsay shrieked, tearing through the hallway toward them. She thrust her hands out, sending a burst of force into the kitchen. The fridge popped out of its sockets and collapsed with an enormous _SMASH_! onto the tiles. Icy liquid sept out of the broken doors.

"Sam, keep working on the spell," Rose demanded, "we'll hold her off."

"How the hell are we gonna do _tha -?_ " Dean started, only to be interrupted by Rose running head-on for Lindsay with two combat knives in hand.

Rose slashed at Lindsay's shoulder with one of the knives and the skin broke apart, sizzling out blood. Lindsay shrieked.

"What the - what happened to the invincibility spell?" Sam asked.

"Blades dipped in holy water," Rose grunted, "won't kill her, but it'll hurt like a bitch." She jabbed one of the knives into Lindsay's neck and tossed the other one into the air. "Dean, heads up!"

Dean caught the knife at its hilt and charged the witch at his sister's side. The cut and poked and jabbed and slashed until Lindsay was practically in shreds, but she never backed down. If anything she just got angrier.

Without warning the oven burst alive, columns of flames raging out of each surface burner. Sam jumped back before his eyebrows could sear off. "Woah!"

"Get that damn spell done already!" Dean yelled.

"I need something else," he claimed, "a piece of her genetic code!"

"On it," Rose growled. She stepped in on the witch, reaching for her hair. "Dean, cover me!"

Dean managed to keep the witch occupied long enough for Rose to slice off a clump of her hair. She tossed it back into the mixing bowl. "There, now finish the spell so we can end this bitc - _Dean_!"

With a wrathful roar, Lindsay released a burst of pure power and sent Dean flying backwards. He smacked against the wall five feet behind him and slumped to the ground, dazed.

Before Rose could sprint to his aid, a strong bony hand latched around her throat. Lindsay lifted her off the ground by her neck, Rose's feet dangling above the kitchen tiles.

"Sam!" she rasped out. "The… _spell_!"

" _Egredere, egredere, vivente malitiam_!" Sam cried. " _Spiritus non revertetur in HOC MUNDO_!"

Sensing her time coming to an end, Lindsay grew desperate: she tightened her grasp around Rose's neck, eyes wide and crazed. In a low, rasping voice, she hissed, " _Ultra non habent veram beatitudinem…"_ she smiled; a cracked, awful, mess of gums and teeth. " _Osculum mihi non cruciaris."_

A streak of sheer agony tore through Rose's skull like a giant icicle had just stabbed her brain's limbic system. Against her will, she tried to scream out. She couldn't. Lindsey's grip was too tight. With each passing blink, Rose's world got darker. She wouldn't last much longer.

But Sam had broken the invincibility spell. So Dean, having regained his footing, stormed forward and stabbed his combat knife directly into Lindsey's spine, piercing her heart.

Lindsey froze solid. Rose dropped from her grip onto her hands and knees, spluttering out blood. Shortly after, Lindsey came toppling down with one final wheeze of a breath. Dead.

"Oh my God," the husband peered his head over the kitchen counter, " _Lindsey_."

"Sorry for your loss," Rose coughed out rather unsympathetically, wiping blood off with the back of her hand.

"Rose," Sam said. He dropped down by her side at the same time Dean did, helping her to her feet. "We got you, we got you."

"It's cool," she wheezed, "I'm good."

"Rose you're coughing up blood," Sam said, "there may be internal bleeding."

"She was holding onto you long enough to cause some damage," Dean agreed.

"Call 911," Rose sighed, "the widow will probably need a good once-over. And someone to clean up the mess." She suddenly looked very tired, like all the adrenaline from the hunt had drained out of her. "Can we please just… get out of here?"

Sam and Dean shared a look. They softened. "Yeah, baby girl," Dean whispered. He wrapped an arm around his sister's shoulders and kissed the top of her head. "Let's go home."

The fading blankets of night across the sky wrapped around the Impala as the trio drove back to the motel. Once they got there, there'd be no waiting around. After a hunt was finished, you left town ASAP. No time for goodbyes.

"I know we all just wanna crash," Dean sighed, eyes on the road, "but you know the drill: grab your crap, stuff it in a bag, and hit the road again. You can sleep on the drive back to Mississippi."

"Uh, Dean," Sam murmured. He nodded into the backseat. "Might be a little late for that."

Dean glimpsed at Rose, passed out cold in the back, through the rear view mirror. He smiled. God, she looked so… _young_ when she slept. Like she was five years old again. Sometimes he forgot how much he missed that.

Suddenly Sam froze. "Hang on - are you sure we should be letting her sleep so soon after almost getting strangled to death?"

Dean pursed his lips. "Dunno. What I _do_ know is this looks like the first proper shut-eye Rosie's got in weeks, and I'd rather not be the one to screw that up."

So they let Rose sleep, packed her things up at the motel, and took off on the road again. At 90 k's an hour, they'd make Batesville, Mississippi by midday.

As they drove, Dean couldn't help but glance over at his brother in the passenger seat. Sam was glaring out the window but couldn't seem to see past the glass, like his mind was blocked. That was never a good sign.

"Sammy," Dean said, "what's going on in that head of yours?"

Sam sighed. After a pause, he said, "Are you sure she'll go through with it?"

"Who?"

"Rose. With her deal. We let her hunt, now it's her turn. Will she pull through?"

Dean sighed. "She won't like it, and sure she'll resist, but she'll put in her half of the bargain."

"Yeah, but for how long?"

"I dunno," Dean admitted, "probably until she sets her eye on the next hunt."

Sam went quiet again. This time the quiet only lasted a couple minutes before, in a small voice, he said, "You were right."

Dean scoffed. "Can you say that again? I wanna record it so I can play it back later."

"I'm serious, Dean. You were right about Rose - hunting isn't good for her, even if we got something out of it too this time. I saw her out there the way you do; she's reckless. Damned good at what she does, but she'll do _anything_ for the kill. Sacrifice…anything." He shook his head. "It's not just that she'd lay down her life, cause we all would, it's that there might be a part of her that _wants_ to. Going to the job like that every day…it'll kill her for sure. And I don't think I can live with that."

Dean glanced over at his brother. "So that's it then. No more hunting?"

"No more hunting," Sam confirmed.

Dean sighed, checking his sister out in the rearview mirror again. "She sure as hell ain't gonna like that."

Sam bit his lip. "…bags not being the one to break the new rules."

"Uh-uh man. I don't think so," Dean said. "We'll flip for it."

So Sam pulled out a coin. "Heads or tails?"

"Heads."

 _Ding-smack_! Sam caught the coin on the top of his hand. He revealed the verdict, looked up at Dean, and grinned.

Dean cursed, " _Damn_."

"Ahhh," Sam laughed. He leaned back in his seat and slumped down a couple inches, getting ready to sleep. "Sweet dreams, Dean."

"Sweet dreams yourself, dickbag," Dean grumbled back.

The last thing Sam remembered before drifting asleep to the rumbling of tires on the highway was his laughter carrying him away.


End file.
